


To Rescue a Fair Maiden

by SapphireSmoke



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action, Canonical Alternate Universe, Corruption, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, First Meetings, First Time, Half-Sibling Incest, Lesbian Character, Loss of Virginity, Magic Revealed, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-11-18 14:59:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 92,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireSmoke/pseuds/SapphireSmoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU // As Morgana’s sixteenth birthday rapidly approaches, Morgause travels to Camelot with the hope she’ll be able to rescue her sister from King Uther before the binding spell on her powers breaks and Morgana finds herself alone in a place where having magick condemns her to death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Undertake the Improbable

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: BellaRei713  
> For: NaNoWriMo 2012

**CHAPTER I  
To Undertake the Improbable**

The heat from the early afternoon’s sun beat down upon her back with relentless torridity. A near fortnight’s journey in the blazing summer heat had left Morgause’s skin reddened and raw; an agonizing combination when coupled with her weary limbs and calloused feet. Though her delicate features resembled that of adolescence, the fire in her eyes reflected the determination that only nineteen winters with a singular purpose could project upon the world.

She was going to save her sister.

It wasn’t too far off now: Camelot, a fortress bathed in the most beautiful colors to shroud the darkness within its stone walls. Morgause could see it on the horizon and she felt herself take a breath; a real, true, lung-swelling breath of air that made her heart thump and her eyes glass over as possibility came closer to a reality. The knapsack slung over her shoulder that contained everything she owned in this world had once felt like a burden along this tiresome journey, yet suddenly felt akin to a feather on her back. Its weight was nothing compared to the hope that now filled her heart.

And so Morgause trudged onward, her pace quickening in sanguine anticipation.

Llamrei had tried to talk her out of going, but it was only to be expected. After Morgause was smuggled out of Camelot during the Great Purge, Llamrei had become the girl’s primary caregiver. Though Morgause affectionately called her ‘aunt,’ she was more of a mother to the blonde than her own flesh and blood. Though Llamrei understood Morgause’s need to free her younger sister from the clutches of Uther Pendragon, she also feared the task was too much for a young girl to undertake. Impossible, she had called it. Morgause thought ‘improbable’ was a better word, for that merely meant it would just be difficult, of which she already knew. But she also knew it could be done, which was the important part.

Aunt Llamrei urged her to wait a few more years, strengthen her magick and hone her abilities, but Morgause felt as though she had waited long enough. The Gods only knew what kind of horror her sister lived with day after day within the walls of Camelot and Morgause knew she could wait no longer; time was running out and though Llamrei insisted everything would work out the way it was meant to, Morgause was not in the habit of leaving things to fate.

It was nearing the eve of Morgana’s sixteenth birthday; the day when their mother’s binding spell would cease to contain the magick flowing within the young girl’s veins. If Morgana did not already know that she was a sorceress, she soon would; and Morgause feared more than anything else that the rest of Camelot would know thereafter. If she was discovered, Morgana’s life was forfeit. Morgause could not allow that to happen. She _wouldn’t._

In her haste, the toe of her boot snagged on a root and she tumbled forward. Morgause cursed loudly as the fabric tore on her trousers, leaving a deep abrasion on her knee. Inwardly scolding herself for her lack of awareness, Morgause settled back against a tree as she tended to her wound. The thick leaves provided her some shelter from the blazing sunlight and Morgause relented to the fact that she was long overdue for a rest. Her body had been screaming at her for hours now, but it was hard to listen to it over the drumming sounds of hope and determination that filled her ears the closer she got to Camelot. Still, though her youthful ignorance prodded her to move onwards as though she were invincible, Morgause had no desire to crawl into the city because she was bested by the elements. And though the tiny voice in the back of her mind tried to convince her otherwise, she knew that would be what happened if she did not take care of herself.

Morgause didn’t realize she had fallen asleep until she had been woken by a voice.

“Are you alright, Miss?”

Morgause visibly jumped as she awoke, looking upon two men bathed in Camelot’s crimson as they peered down on her on their horses. Knights, presumably. Had she already crossed the border to the city’s territory? The long journey in the summer’s heat had distorted time and distance and it was plausible that she did not realize how far she had really come until she had settled down to rest. Though every inch of her body screamed mistrust towards those who dared parade around in Uther’s colors, Morgause collected herself so as not to arouse suspicion. Apparently she had taken too long to collect herself however and the tallest man dismounted his horse to approach her.

“Can you speak?” he inquired. Though Morgause seemed to pose no threat to him, he still kept his hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword, not one to be fooled by appearances. “You are injured,” he noted, glancing at her bandaged knee.

“I’m _fine,_ ” Morgause immediately defended, finding her voice. She realized how that came out a bit too late though and attempted to brush it off as nothing. “It’s merely a scratch. I had fallen; I’ve had a long journey and I did not heed my body’s wish for rest sooner than it would have liked.” She dared not move, not wanting the knights to think she was provoking an attack. Though she was sure that her magick was more than a match for these men, it would not do to arouse suspicion before she even set foot inside of the city. Besides, she was feeling weak and that would more than likely translate if she attempted to use sorcery against the men. It was not worth the risk, in any sense.

“What is your business in Camelot?” the second knight inquired, looking distrustful of Morgause although she appeared as nothing but a frail young woman, weary from the heat and distance she had traveled.

“I’ve traveled from Mercia,” Morgause lied easily, having already thought of a story should she be questioned of her intentions. “Bernicia’s army destroyed my village in retaliation against King Bayard’s refusal to leave the treaty of the Five Kingdoms and join with King Odin. My…” Morgause looked down, mustering up every emotion she held inside of her to finish her story with a tear, “my entire family was slaughtered. I barely made it out with my life. I seek solace inside the mighty walls of Camelot; to start anew.”

Morgause had heard about the incident from a stranger in a pub, when she briefly rested in a town outside of Mercia along her journey. Before that she was merely going to go with the story that she was a runaway, but this seemed much better, in light of how aligned Camelot was with King Bayard. The peace treaty between them was revered and there was no doubt that Uther would allow a survivor of the incident to take shelter in his city. After all, with how tense Albion had been as wars raged between the Five Kingdoms and their enemies, Morgause was not sure how welcome strangers would be inside of Camelot’s walls and she did not wish to draw attention to herself. 

“Odin,” the mounted knight spat, as if the word was bile falling from his lips. “The bastard seeks a confrontation he cannot win. Foolish.”

Morgause said nothing.

“I am very sorry for your loss,” the first knight said; much kinder than his companion. He knelt before her, extending his hand to help Morgause to her feet. “I am Sir Leon. The city limits are not more than a quarter day’s ride and these forests can be dangerous at night; if you’d like accompaniment, we shall see you to the gates.”

“Morgause,” the blonde replied in introduction, not bothering to lie about her name as she knew Uther believed her dead many years ago. He had more than likely forgotten about her existence in the first place. “And that is very kind of you, but I would not think to sway a knight from his duties; I can fair on my own.” It was not as difficult as Morgause had expected, to be kind and obliging. Though the fire raged within her at the thought of being aided by those she hated, it would not due to show it. She had come with a purpose and that reigned above any personal feelings she may have against the knights of Camelot. 

“Be that as it may, it would not rest well on my conscience to leave a young woman out in these forests alone, let alone a wounded one.” Sir Leon smiled at her while his companion reeked of impatience; it was obvious he did not have the same feelings as his fellow knight and wished to move on. “Please, let us assist you.”

Morgause was about to protest again, but found that her continued denial of his kindness may seem suspicious. So instead she forced herself to smile graciously as he helped her onto the back of his white steed, ignoring the other knight’s muttered comment about how Sir Leon could never resist playing the hero to a pretty girl.

Morgause needed no hero; especially not one bathed in Uther’s crimson. _She_ was to be the hero at the end of this tale, of that she was determined. And if the man who sat astride the horse before her was wise, his chapter in her story would end at the gates of Camelot. Sir Leon was young; he had probably only seen two more winters than Morgause herself, so she knew she could not personally fault him for what had happened during the Purge. He was probably just a boy when it happened, not yet knighted into the Pendragon ranks. However, that did not mean that Morgause would hesitate to kill him if the man stood between herself and her goal: getting Morgana out of Camelot, to safety.

The journey was made mostly in silence, although Sir Leon did attempt a bit of small talk. It was obvious by Morgause’s less than enthusiastic responses however that she did not wish to speak with him. She feigned tiredness to explain her aloof behavior and no other words were spoken between them until they reached the gates of Camelot.

The sun was just beginning to set, bathing the city in beautiful hues of orange and yellow that did well to hide the horror that Morgause had always associated Camelot with. Her mind’s eye however, painted the walls with the blood spatters that had been washed away more than a decade ago. No amount of superficial beauty would distract her from what Camelot truly was: a plague upon the land, upon magick, and upon her people. The day would come when Morgause would gladly take up arms to bring Uther and his precious city down; to watch everything the man ever loved and prided burn and turn to ash before her eyes, but for now she had other priorities.

Sir Leon’s horse halted a few paces past the gate and the man looked over his shoulder at Morgause. “You should get a proper night’s rest. You can shelter yourself in the Inn just past the Blacksmith’s,” he pointed, “until you’ve found yourself a home in our city.”

 _A home._ Morgause hadn’t even thought of that. She had very little money; more than likely only enough to provide her shelter for two or three nights in the Inn. After that she would have to take up a more permanent residence, as she doubted she could rescue her sister in the span of two days. Where would she go? Morgause didn’t have a plan. In fact, she barely had anything. She just came, without thought or hesitation. Perhaps she should have ventured forth with more than just a knapsack and hope, but there wasn’t time for her to think about proper arrangements.

But she would make due; there wasn’t any other option.

“Thank you for your kindness,” Morgause replied diplomatically as she dismounted from the horse. She winced slightly as most of her weight went on her injured knee, but she knew once she had a proper night’s rest her magick would be stronger and she would be able to heal it without much effort. The journey had weighed heavily on her abilities and it left her feeling naked and raw without the feeling of power coursing through her body.

“Think nothing of it,” Sir Leon dismissed with a smile. “Any man would feel honored to assist such a beauty.”

His companion outright rolled his eyes at that and Morgause had to stop herself from doing the same. The knight’s interest in her was not flattering; she knew Sir Leon thought her nothing more than a villager and therefore his flirtatious attitude meant he only wished to bed her. Someone of his rank could do nothing else with someone so common, after all. 

Though honestly even if the man wasn’t Uther’s disgusting little pet, Morgause would still hold no interest; in the nineteen winters she had lived she had yet to find her loins ache at the sight of the male form and she doubted she ever would. However, after living with High Priestesses of the Old Religion for many years, Morgause found that wasn’t uncommon amongst her people; most seemed to live their life void of romantic ties, as strong emotions complicated their magick and made it harder to control. There were exceptions of course, but Morgause found that solitude appealed to her more than anything else. Magick was her life and she did not wish to compromise that with something so trivial; it seemed foolish.

“I bid you goodnight, Sir Leon. Thank you again for the assistance,” Morgause replied, dismissing his flirtatious attitude with a polite smile before she turned away from them.

As she headed towards the Inn, Morgause heard the other knight jest at Sir Leon’s expense for his advances being halted. It was of no matter to her though, for as Morgause walked it suddenly dawned on her that she was truly one step closer to achieving her ends. The feeling warmed her inside more than the fire in the Inn as she stepped through the threshold, and she smiled to herself.

[x]

“What about this one?” Gwen asked, holding up a beautiful green gown; one of the Ward’s favorites. After a long moment’s silence however, it was clear she hadn’t even been heard. “My Lady?”

Morgana turned away from the window, her heart weighing heavy as she took in the choice her dearest friend and maidservant suggested. “Yes, that’ll be fine,” she responded half-heartedly. Gwen’s face masked in worry as she took in Morgana’s expression, and she put the dress back into the wardrobe.

“Are you alright?”

Morgana had half a mind to lie to her and tell her she was fine, but Gwen had been the closest person to her for nearly five years now and she would be able to tell that she wasn’t being entirely truthful. Still, it was not something Morgana wished to speak about; it wouldn’t change anything, so she failed to see the point in expressing her feelings on the matter. 

It seemed she didn’t have to though, because Gwen crossed the room to sit next to her on the windowsill, guessing, “You’re not very excited for your birthday, are you?” 

Morgana let out a small breath and covered her friend’s hand with hers. She nodded, letting Gwen know silently that she had guessed correctly. She knew, by all sane reasoning, that she should be more excited than words could express – like most girls were her age – yet it seemed to be the opposite. Morgana didn’t feel like she was about to embark into the freedom of womanhood; she felt oppressed, trapped into beginning a new life that she didn’t want for herself. It felt akin to suffocation and the Ward hated every moment of it.

“I’m too young to marry,” Morgana whispered, sharing her private fear with the one person she knew wouldn’t use it against her. She looked down at their linked hands and Gwen squeezed lightly, trying to comfort her friend. Her calloused working hands were a vast contrast from Morgana’s smooth skin, but it was the roughness that the brunette enjoyed; it made Gwen feel more real to her, for some reason.

“Morgana, being sixteen only makes you _eligible_ for marriage,” Gwen reminded her gently. “That doesn’t mean it will happen right away. It could be years off.”

Morgana shot her a skeptical look. “You know as well as I do that Prince Lionel has had his eye on me for quite some time, and his father is in an alliance with Uther. If he proposes, Uther will accept on my behalf without a second thought. It’s never about love, it’s about _politics._ ” Her face masked in disgust, hating the way things were done nowadays. “I’m to be sold to keep Camelot in good standing with its allies, and you know it.”

Gwen looked at her sympathetically, but it seemed she had no answer to contradict that. After a moment’s silence that had seemed to envelop the room in a depressing haze, she offered, “Well… perhaps he won’t propose right away; maybe he’ll give you some time.”

“And allow some other eligible bachelor the time to get there first? Doubtful. I’ll be lucky if he even asks me on a date first.”

“Didn’t he already?” Gwen reminded her gently, looking a little amused. “You turned him down, remember? I’ve never seen a man look so crushed.”

Morgana laughed quietly, remembering that day. Lionel had come to Camelot with his father last Solstice and offered to take her out riding, but Morgana felt no obligation to impress him and so to amuse herself she made a game of it. “I didn’t turn him down _directly,_ no,” she responded, smirking. “I made him joust Arthur first, don’t you remember? I told him if he won I would go, but he fell on his arse in mere moments; it really was quite hilarious.”

Gwen laughed as she mentally replayed that moment in her head. “Right! He fell in his horse’s manure and then didn’t leave his room for days because he was so embarrassed…!” The two girls collapsed into giggles, leaning on each other as they remembered that day.

“He was so angry at Arthur!” Morgana laughed heartily. “He _swore_ he made him land there on purpose. He gives him far too much credit; Arthur’s good, but he’s not _that_ good!”

Gwen covered her mouth as she tried to stifle her giggling. “Well, perhaps that is giving him too much credit, but Prince Arthur definitely seemed pleased with himself.” She nudged Morgana gently as she mentioned, “He seems to have eyes for you too, you know. Perhaps you won’t have to leave Camelot after all.”

“Oh, ew!” Morgana exclaimed, face masking in horror. That thought perhaps scarred her even more than the prospect of marrying Lionel. “Gwen, he’s like a brother to me! I could never marry him.” Gwen just shrugged in response, a slight hint of a smirk upon her cherub face.

“You never know,” she started as she rose from the windowsill, untangling her hand from Morgana’s, “You may wake up one day and look at him in an entirely new light.” Morgana merely looked disgruntled at the prospect and Gwen giggled lightly before heading back over to the wardrobe. “Come on,” she encouraged lightly. “Let’s get you dressed for the day. There’s no use worrying over something that has yet to pass; you have more than a fortnight until your birthday and you wanted to go shopping today, did you not?”

Morgana nodded, then shook her head as if to clear it from the bad thoughts that plagued her mind. “Yes, of course. You’re right; perhaps I should just take everything one day at a time. I’m no Seer, I cannot predict what will be so I shouldn’t worry myself with the ‘what ifs’ in life.”

“Exactly,” responded Gwen as she pulled the green dress from the wardrobe once more. As Morgana began to undress out of her nightgown, sliding the silken fabric down her thighs, she continued, “Besides, having future sight would take all the fun out of life, don’t you think? It’s better if everything’s a mystery.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Morgana stepped into the intricately woven dress; however her line of sight was out the window, at the world. She so wished to explore it and it seemed that was an impossibility. As Gwen helped her pull the gown and lace it, she finished, “Maybe life would be easier if I knew what was to come.”

“Perhaps,” Gwen replied as she toyed with the laces, pulling them tighter so as to accent Morgana’s youthful form, “but don’t let the King hear you speak that way.” Her tone held a bit of a warning; one that Morgana knew she would do well to heed. Prophecy frightened Uther; but then again, so did everything related to sorcery. 

“No…” Morgana shook her head, hand still on her stomach to allow Gwen to tie it as tightly as she could manage. Her voice held a bit of a sigh however as she finished softly, “No, of course not…”

She didn’t know why that made her feel so saddened, but Morgana chose not to dwell on it.

**TBC…**


	2. Indications

**CHAPTER II  
Indications**

The ground was hard and unforgiving beneath her, the wind holding an unusually bitter chill for a mid-summer’s night. Morgause shifted, trying to get comfortable enough to sleep; it seemed impossible though, and when she moved onto a particularly jagged pebble she swore under her breath, using her hands to try to sweep away the uneven parts of the earth beneath her.

Morgause had used up the rest of her coin on a room for two nights, so now she was stuck sleeping outside beneath the stars. While she had done that many times during her long trek to Camelot, she found the grass was much more accommodating than a cobblestone alleyway. It seemed someone had gotten sick a little ways down the road as well – quite possibly a drunk coming from the tavern – but the smell was overbearing and Morgause had to cover her mouth and nose with her hand just to be able to breathe semi-fresh air.

This wasn’t exactly the scenario she had pictured when she set off on this journey.

But what else should she have been expecting? It wasn’t as though she had headed out with an actual _plan_ or anything. Morgause still hadn’t even figured out how she would get into the castle; it seemed very well guarded when she cased the exterior yesterday morning. She thought it would be better to find an excuse to be in there rather than an actual full frontal assault, but what excuse could she have? Perhaps if she became a servant there, but Morgause didn’t know the first thing about going about something like that. She thought it may look suspicious if a stranger offered their services to the King of Camelot. And so she found herself tucked away in an alley, utterly stuck on how to proceed.

She very well may have to use force to get into the castle, but the chances of her convincing her sister to leave with her before the guards closed in on them was close to none. Morgana didn’t even _know_ her, not really. She was just a baby when Morgause was smuggled out of the city. She didn’t even know if Morgana would remember she had an elder sister, let alone trust some random stranger who said so.

But just because it seemed unlikely that she would succeed, it didn’t mean Morgause would give up. An opportunity would arise in time; she just had to be patient. Nothing worth having was ever easy to come by, after all.

Morgause was about to attempt sleep again when a girl walking by tripped over an uneven spot in the cobblestone and lost her balance. Though she did not fall, the basket of fabric she had been carrying tumbled to the ground, spilling at her feet. “Shit!” she cursed, most likely before she could even think, because her hand went up to her mouth as she looked around to see if she had disturbed anyone with her language. When she caught sight of Morgause she immediately said, “I apologize—” 

“No need,” responded the blonde, picking herself up off the ground to help the girl gather her things. “It seemed like an appropriate time to curse. Here, let me help you.” The girl looked a bit flustered and apologized once more, yet smiled in thanks to Morgause.

“I can be so clumsy; sometimes I don’t know how I manage to get up in the morning.”

Morgause laughed lightly, piling the fabric back into the girl’s basket before picking it up and handing it to her. Though it was dark and her skin was a beautiful shade of brown, Morgause clearly saw her blush in the soft light of the moon. She smiled gently, trying not to embarrass the girl further. “I’ve noticed the cobblestone is lain badly around here; I’m sure it was through no fault of your own.”

“I’d probably believe that if I hadn’t already tripped once before,” the girl responded, laughing softly at herself. She hoisted up the basket and held it tighter, so as to not drop it again. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have waited and done my errands in daylight.” Her eyes met Morgause’s for a moment before they scanned the area, her expression turning puzzled as she took in their surroundings; Morgause’s knapsack and a small blanket she had taken from the Inn before she left. “Were you sleeping here?”

Morgause’s expression immediately darkened and she averted her eyes as she lied, “ _No._ ” She did not like it when people thought less of her and was not about to give anyone a reason to. She was completely capable, of course; she was just in a bit of a pickle at the moment. It would pass; she would figure things out.

“You often take a blanket with you in dark alleys, then?” the girl questioned, as if she knew Morgause was lying. It frustrated the blonde slightly.

“Perhaps I’m just afraid of the dark and take it along for comfort; what’s it to you?”

The girl’s eyebrows rose at her tone and Morgause immediately felt bad for snapping at her; she didn’t deserve that. “I’m sorry for prying,” apologized the raven-haired beauty. “Thank you for your assistance, but I better be heading off now; it’s getting late.”

Morgause let out a heavy sigh as she watched her turn and walk out of her line of sight. It only took a few seconds before Morgause grabbed the corner of the stone wall and looked around at the girl. “I’m new to the city,” she called out after her, which made dark eyes turn back to meet hers. “I… haven’t quite found my way yet.” It was an admission Morgause didn’t want to voice, but the girl was nice and she shouldn’t be spitting on the one person who was kind to her without aiming to bed her.

“I’m Morgause,” she introduced, trying to make up for being a bit horrible earlier. She gave her a half-smile, and when it was finally returned Morgause’s got a little bigger.

“Gwen,” the girl responded, moving back over towards Morgause. “Where are you from? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

The lie rolled off her tongue easily. “Mercia.”

Gwen seemed to be waiting for more than just that simple answer, but when nothing else followed she offered, “Well, no one deserves to sleep out on the street. I can’t offer much, but I do have a cot and some warm blankets I can accommodate you with for the night, if you’re interested.”

Morgause’s eyebrows rose, not expecting such kindness. She shook her head, “I don’t want to impose…”

“If I had thought you’d be imposing, I wouldn’t have offered,” Gwen responded, a hint of a smile playing at the edges of her lips. “But there is one condition.”

Ah, a catch. There always was one, wasn’t there? Morgause said nothing, merely looked at the girl expectantly. While she had the appearance of a servant girl, with Morgause’s luck it’d be revealed that Gwen lived in a brothel and the Madame would expect her to ‘earn her stay,’ or something equally degrading. She would much rather sleep on the street than be like to a prostitute.

It seemed her pessimism was unwarranted however as Gwen held out the basket to her. “Carry this for me? I think I’ve lost feeling in my left arm; I’ve been holding it for quite some time now.”

Morgause’s surprise reflected in her eyes, but then she laughed. Taking the basket from Gwen, she was shocked by its weight. “What do you have in here? I thought it was merely fabric.”

“Oh, it is,” Gwen told her as she started walking, motioning for Morgause to follow. The blonde gathered up her things, then headed after her. “But many of my wicker baskets have fallen apart over the years and my father had the ‘brilliant’ idea to line this one with steel. His intentions were sweet, although a bit misguided. But it’s all I have at the moment.” Morgause chuckled. 

“Are you a seamstress?” she inquired. Morgause thought it stood to reason, with all of the fabric Gwen was carrying. But the girl shook her head in response.

“Oh no, definitely not. But it’s my friend’s birthday soon and I wish to make her something. I don’t know what exactly, but I suppose something will come to me soon.” Gwen shrugged lightly. “I’ve never really _made_ anything before – just hemmed a few dresses and fixed a few loose seams – but it can’t be too difficult, do you think?”

“Honestly I’ve never even held a needle in my life,” Morgause answered. “Being a proper woman is not exactly a strength of mine.” When Gwen stopped in front of a house, Morgause’s eyebrows knitted together as she read the sign. “You’re the Blacksmith’s daughter? I would have never guessed.”

“Why, because I’m not covered in charcoal and soot?” Gwen jested as she opened the door to her home, inviting Morgause inside. “I didn’t choose my father’s trade; I can’t even manage to wield a sword properly, let alone craft one.” Laughter followed.

“What is it that you do then?” Morgause enquired as she set the basket of fabric down on the floor. Gwen smiled at her as she closed the large wooden door behind them.

“I’m a maidservant in the castle.”

Morgause suddenly found she couldn’t breathe.

Gwen actually worked _inside_ of the castle? The Gods must favor her today, because Morgause believed the likelihood of her ever meeting anyone with so much access was slim to none. And yet there she was, practically dropped in front of Morgause like a gift from the heavens. But she made sure to not look excited by the information and instead asked casually:

“Hard work?”

Gwen shook her head. “Nothing I can’t manage. I actually quite enjoy it, but that is probably due to being close to the girl I look after. I’ve been her maidservant for close to five years now; she’s really wonderful.” Her face lit up in a smile at the mention of her mistress.

Morgause knew it would probably be pushing her luck to have actually fallen into the house of _Morgana’s_ maidservant, but before she could ask who she looked after Gwen was already speaking again, showing her to her accommodations. 

“I know it’s not much,” she said, motioning to the small cot by the fireplace, “but it must be more comfortable than the cobblestone street.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” Morgause answered graciously, glad herself that she wasn’t going to be sleeping out on the streets tonight. She didn’t bother asking the question that she was bursting to know, but Morgause figured there would be other times to ask such things. Besides, she didn’t want to look to eager for the information. She could get important information out of the girl to help her retrieve Morgana, even if she _wasn’t_ her maidservant, of that she was sure. But she’d have to be wise about how to go about it, and right now she really was disastrously tired.

“If you need anything, I’ll just be there,” Gwen offered, pointing into her bedroom. “I’ll leave a note for my father not to wake you; he gets up before the sun rises most mornings.”

“Thank you, Gwen,” Morgause answered, smiling at her warmly. “Your kindness will not be forgotten.” She did not expect anyone in Camelot to take her in; all she had ever heard were horror stories about the city. But Morgause was beginning to realize that Uther’s subjects were not all as callous and ruthless as he. Perhaps it was naïve to think such a thing, but the word ‘Camelot’ was said amongst her people as if it were the thing nightmares were born from. She was raised to fear and hate everything within these walls.

Gwen returned her smile. “Sleep well, Morgause,” she bid before turning and disappearing into her room.

Morgause was beginning to think twice about her sentiments that the city should burn to ash. Not everything was horrible inside of Camelot’s walls. Perhaps if it had a kind, a _just_ ruler, things would be different. But that would not happen until Uther Pendragon was dead, and Morgause was still more than happy to be part of the regime to overthrow him. It might not happen today, tomorrow, or even a year from now, but he would get torn from his throne one day… of that Morgause was sure of.

[x]

“Who is _that?_ ”

Gwen was nearly knocked backwards as Morgana pushed past her towards the window, looking out at the woman in her maidservant’s yard who was practicing some kind of complicated move with a sword whilst talking animatedly to Gwen’s father. Her long blonde hair shone gallantly in the sunlight, its slight waves reminding Morgana of the sea crashing upon the shore. She moved with all the precision and skill of a knight, had all the beauty of a Lady, yet wore clothes of a servant girl. The woman utterly perplexed, yet fascinated Morgana and she couldn’t help but stare.

“Good morning to you too, my Lady.”

“Oh,” Morgana exclaimed, turning back around to face Gwen with an apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry. Did I push you when I…?” _Ran to the window to stare at some stranger like a prat?_ But Morgana didn’t finish her sentence, already feeling foolish enough. It wasn’t like her to be so rude.

Gwen gave her a look of amusement. “I’m fine. I was merely unprepared for such a reaction.” Her face turned serious though as she finished, “I didn’t expect you here this morning; is everything alright?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, I just… I needed some air so I decided to take a walk, and when I passed by I saw…”

“Morgause,” Gwen informed her, an amused look on her face as she watched her friend stare back out the window at her guest. “She seems to be quite good with weaponry, does she not?”

“Mmm,” Morgana muttered in response, much too caught up in watching the strange woman move with the sword to form proper words. Her movements were so fluid that, for the first time in Morgana’s life, she could see the art in swordplay, rather than just its barbaric ends. She stared for a few more moments until she _realized_ she had been staring like a fool, which prompted her to whip around and come face to face with a knowing look that was plastered all over her maidservant’s face. Her expression made Morgana blush slightly and she asked defensively, “What?”

“Nothing,” Gwen responded in an airy tone, chuckling to herself as she moved to roll up the cot that Morgause had been sleeping on the night before. Morgana didn’t approve of that answer though and she put her hands on her hips, looking flustered by what Gwen was not saying.

“ _What?_ ”

Gwen looked over her shoulder, eyebrows raised. “You wish to know what I’m thinking?” she asked, like it was something new. It wasn’t though, which perplexed Morgana.

“Don’t I always?”

Gwen placed the rolled up cot and blankets into a basket in the parlor before turning towards Morgana. “I’m just surprised by how taken you seem with Morgause, is all.” Morgana’s mouth dropped open.

“What? I am _not!_ She’s… she just looks interesting, is all. Gwen, she’s a _woman._ ”

“Well spotted.”

Morgana rolled her eyes before glancing back out the window at Morgause. “She’s just… where did you _find_ her?” she questioned, looking back at her friend.

“She was sleeping on the streets; I offered her a warm bed,” Gwen said simply, which slightly frustrated Morgana because someone like _that_ just waltzing into Camelot and into her friend’s life had to have a more elaborate story. Morgause wasn’t a simple villager; that much was obvious.

“On the streets?” Morgana repeated, confusion masking over her face. “I would have thought the men of our lovely city would have been _fighting_ over a chance to have her in their home. She’s…” Morgana was back to staring again; Morgause had put down the sword and was now smiling and talking with Gwen’s father with enthusiasm.

“Beautiful?” Gwen finished for her mistress knowingly. “Yes, well… perhaps she doesn’t fancy the company of men; not all women do.” Her tone was casual as she began to tidy the living room.

Morgana turned back sharply, eyes widening. “You mean she’s…?” She had never met a Daughter of Sappho before. Then again, she did live quite a sheltered life; she’d never even been outside of Pendragon territory before.

Gwen merely shrugged and continued cleaning.

Morgana was silent for a moment as she looked back out at Morgause. If she really was a Daughter of Sappho, did that mean she came here because she fancied _Gwen?_ As far as Morgana knew, her maidservant didn’t turn a wanton eye at women, but, then again, they never really had discussed Gwen’s love life, had they? Her friend was oddly secretive when it came to those sorts of things. Morgana chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before asking, “Will she be staying here long?”

“I’m not sure,” Gwen replied, moving over to stand by the window with Morgana after she had finished tidying up. “My father seems to adore her though; I don’t think he’s ever met someone so enamored with weaponry. Perhaps he’ll take her on as an apprentice; he has wanted one for a long while now.”

Morgana wasn’t sure if she wanted Morgause to stay or not; something felt heavy in her stomach and the unusual feeling made her brain feel hazy. Finding it best to ignore it whenever her body did strange things, Morgana turned away from the window once more. “I should go; Arthur is probably wondering where I’ve gotten off to. He wanted to show me his new armor… thing,” she waved her hand dismissively, not much caring about anything to do with battle. But she did say she would come see what he had gotten and didn’t want to keep him waiting.

Gwen looked surprised. “You don’t want to meet her?”

“In _this?_ ” Morgana exclaimed as she motioned towards her attire erratically. She must be mad!

Gwen blinked at her. “What’s wrong with what you’re wearing? It’s beautiful. More importantly, why do you _care_ what you’re wearing when you meet her?” Her eyebrows raised and Morgana involuntarily blushed, then scowled at her for making her do so. She knew what Gwen was implying, and it wasn’t like that at all. Again, Morgause was a _woman._

Morgana stumbled over her next words. “I just… there’s a certain standard I need to uphold as Ward when I meet people and this… this isn’t… well, it’s just not up to par, alright?” Gwen snorted, but said nothing. “Gwen, I’m being serious! Look at her; she’s probably the most beautiful person to set foot inside of Camelot, woman _or_ man, and I don’t want to look like a hag when I’m standing next to her.”

“Morgana, you couldn’t look like a hag even if you tried,” Gwen said, chuckling. “But if that’s what you wish. I’ll introduce her to you at a later date then.”

“That’s… yes, thank you. That would be—” But Morgana was cut off as she glanced once more at Morgause, who was now _looking right at her._ When the blonde started moving towards the house, Morgana all but ran to the door. “I… uh, I’ll see you later, yes?” she asked, yet didn’t wait for an answer before she bolted out the door. Gwen looked perplexed; at least that was until she heard Morgause coming into the house from the back door. _Ah._

“Who was that?” she asked, her tone just as interested as Morgana had been in her. Once again, Gwen looked amused, yet kept her thoughts to herself this time.

“That was the Lady Morgana.”

The way Morgause’s jaw dropped was almost comical and it took everything Gwen had not to burst out laughing. She was positive things wouldn’t be dull around Camelot for much longer; at least, if the way those two reacted to each other was any indication. 

And as far as Gwen was concerned, that was about as big as indications came.

**TBC…**


	3. The Unforgiving Dress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As of today, I have officially passed the 50k mark for NaNoWriMo with this fic! However as it is still far from being done, updates will continue to be once a week until I complete it, so as to not overwhelm myself.

**CHAPTER III  
The Unforgiving Dress**

Morgana felt foolish about how she had reacted to the mysterious blonde; however, that didn’t stop her from stealing from the castle the next afternoon in the hope that she would speak to her. Dressed in one of her finest gowns, a deep blue taffeta that accented the womanly curves she not too long ago began to develop, she nervously fiddled with the gold pendent around her neck. It bore the crest of her father, Gorlois. It was an heirloom she had acquired at birth and it served as a comfort to her to wear it. As Morgana was irrationally nervous, she had put it on in the hope that it would calm her.

It worked, albeit only slightly.

She knew what Gwen would say if Morgana told her she was nervous; she’d gently tease her about how someone finally caught her eye, and though Morgana was sure that was how it looked from an outside perspective, she was positive that had nothing to do with it at all. Morgause was beautiful, of course; only a blind fool would deny such a thing. But Morgana’s intrigue with her ran so much deeper than something so… _frivolous_ as attraction. The woman was an enigma, a walking contradiction and a puzzle that screamed for Morgana to solve. She was interesting, that was all there was to it.

At least she hoped that was all there was to it. 

Morgana had only just started to come into her womanhood; to have any more confusion during the process might very well kill her. It wasn’t as though she had a mother to explain things to her; she had _Uther,_ who would probably prefer to hang himself than speak to her about growing up. Gwen was a help somewhat, of course; but she was only a few months older than Morgana, so it wasn’t as though she had all the wisdom and experience of a grown woman.

Morgana stopped outside the far left of the fence that surrounded Gwen’s home, seeing Morgause out in the yard, perched on a tree stump as she sharpened one of Tom’s swords. Morgana had purposely come here when she knew Gwen was preoccupied, not wanting to see her smirking at her as she tried to not make a fool of herself as she attempted to make conversation with someone whose beauty rivaled that of the sun’s radiance. She hoped Gwen’s father was otherwise engaged as well; Morgana would rather have as few witnesses to this as possible.

God, what was she _doing?_ Obviously she was going to make a complete arse of herself. That much was already guaranteed, so why had she even come here? This was a bad idea.

Morgana was about to turn away again when Morgause’s gaze caught hers. The Ward suddenly found she couldn’t breathe, let alone move to run away like she had originally planned. _Bollocks._

And now Morgause was coming closer.

_Closer._

Morgana’s lungs _were_ supposed to work autonomously, right?

Morgause was smiling at her in this way that warmed Morgana from the inside out, and when the blonde leaned on the wooden fence, suddenly the breath Morgana had been holding came out in one large _whoosh_. She probably looked ridiculous, but Morgana found she still couldn’t move. She was staring. Intently.

_Stop staring!_

As Morgana averted her gaze, Morgause spoke. “I knew you’d come back.” A statement like that of course, prompted Morgana to look back at the woman. It was said with such self-assurance that it took the Ward back momentarily.

“You don’t even know who I am.”

Morgause smirked. “You’re the Lady Morgana; daughter of Gorlois and Vivienne, and Uther Pendragon’s Ward, are you not?” She hoisted herself up on the fence, perched against a spoke as she looked at Morgana in such a manner that, once again, made the brunette forget how to breathe.

So Morgana looked away. It was easier to speak when she didn’t feel as though she were falling. Perhaps the heat was getting to her; it had been unreasonably hot this summer, which probably accounted for why Morgause wasn’t wearing much clothing. Dressed in mere trousers that were hoisted up past her knees and a loose white tunic that dipped much lower than any respectable woman would wear, her attire was incredibly distracting.

“Gwen’s spoken to you about me then.”

“No.”

Morgana risked looking at the blonde once more, unable to hide the puzzlement in her expression. “Then you’re stalking me?” she jested, but only half-so. How did Morgause know who she was without Gwen telling her? Unless the woman was just toying with her for her own amusement; which wouldn’t be very nice, especially since Morgana was already having so much difficulty looking poised throughout this interaction.

Morgause laughed. “Why would I have to stalk you when you’re the one who came to me?”

“I… was just passing by, was all,” Morgana stumbled, not enjoying being called out. Most people wouldn’t dare, with her position in the castle. Then again, it was clear Morgause didn’t fall under the category of ‘most people.’

“On your way to a wedding?” Morgause jested, referring to Morgana’s attire. And alright, perhaps it was a bit over the top, but Morgana just wanted to look nice. She wrinkled her nose in distaste of being made to look like a fool. Like she wasn’t doing that enough on her own already?

“I’m a Lady,” Morgana defended, finding her voice.

“Aren’t we all.”

“No Lady would be seen in public wearing the attire you are,” Morgana countered, wanting Morgause to feel the fool at least once during this conversation. “Your breasts are practically on show for anyone who dared look close enough. I shudder to think what your mother would say if she saw you, if you are, in fact, a _Lady._ ”

Morgause flicked a piece of chipped wood from the top of the fence that had come loose as she told her flatly, “My mother is dead.”

_Oh._ Lord, Morgana had half a mind to sew her mouth shut and hold herself up in her bedroom for all eternity; maybe that way she could prevent sticking her foot in her mouth in such a fashion.

“I’m sorry,” Morgana apologized sincerely. “I… my mother is dead as well.”

Morgause looked at her in a way that Morgana wished she could decipher, but quickly found she would probably never have the tools to undertake such a task. She watched Morgause slide off the fence, coming close enough in proximity to Morgana that she could reach out and touch her if she wanted. The Ward didn’t know if she should move closer or back away, and so she stayed completely still.

“If my mother were alive though,” Morgause started, gaze piercing Morgana’s. “She’d tell me to do what makes me happy. And though it may seem trivial in the grand scheme of things, wearing appropriate attire for the seasons – and not my status – makes me happy. You look like you’re going to pass out in that dress, Morgana. It’s far too heavy for this time of the year.”

It was true; Morgana was feeling a bit lightheaded and was sweating probably much more than could ever be considered attractive, but that didn’t mean she would wander around Camelot wearing men’s clothing, no matter how much more comfortable they appeared to be.

“Lady?”

“I’m sorry,” Morgause responded, her voice holding a bit of sarcasm as she finished, “You look like you’re going to pass out in that dress, my _Lady_.”

“No,” Morgana said, shaking her head. That wasn’t what she meant. “I meant to ask, you are a Lady then? You said your ‘status’.”

Morgause looked as though she thought she had said too much, and this time it was she who looked away. “My life is not up for discussion,” she told her. “Not now. You would not believe what I have to say about myself anyway, even if I told you.”

Morgana took a step forward. “Try me.”

Brown eyes met green, and yes, Morgana was sure the heat was getting to her because she was about to fall down. “One day you’ll know,” is all Morgause offered her.

And then Morgana collapsed.

She had expected to hit the ground, but Morgause was quick. She caught her in her arms, worry in her eyes as she looked down at the brunette. “Morgana, are you alright??”

Well, as far as foolish things she had done went, nearly passing out was now at the top of the list. _Great._ Morgana allowed Morgause to help her to her feet, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as the blonde steadied her. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, feeling like an idiot. “Perhaps you were right about this dress.”

“Come,” Morgause insisted. “Let us get you inside and out of the summer’s heat.” She slid her arm around Morgana’s waist, allowing the Ward support. Morgana tried to protest the help, but her words fell on deaf ears; it was obvious she was still unsteady on her feet. Her head felt heavy and full of darkening clouds, begging her eyes to rest so as to not feel the unbearable temperature her body had become.

Though Gwen’s house provided shelter from the sun’s unmerciful rays, it did little else to cool her down. “Perhaps I should just head back to the castle…” Morgana tried, wanting desperately to be stripped of these garments and soak in a nice, cool bath. But her vision blurred momentarily, and as Morgana placed a hand to her head to try to ground herself, one of her knees weakened and she stumbled. Morgause’s grip held firm on her waist.

“You would find yourself face down in the streets if you attempted to do so right now,” Morgause reminded her, encouraging Morgana to find a place on Gwen’s bed. “You’d be lucky if you made it as far as the market.”

Morgause obviously did not have a resting place to offer her herself, but it was of no matter because Morgana knew that her friend would not mind; it had been many a time that she had allowed the serving girl a place to lie in her bed, after all. Gwen often worked late, into the night hours. Morgana found it would have been cruel to make her walk all the way home when she was in a state of such exhaustion. 

Besides, Morgana always preferred the company of another in her bed; it made everything seem less… lonely.

As Morgana found the weight reprieved from her weary legs, she wiped her brow and looked up at Morgause. “I just need to get out of this wretched dress,” she complained lightly, not really expecting anything to be done of it. It wasn’t like she could order Morgause to go fetch her proper attire; she was not one of Camelot’s servants. Maybe if she just lied down and rested for a moment, she’d get her bearings once more…

“Then take it off.”

Morgana, who had just lain down, flew back up to a seated position within the blink of an eye. “ _Pardon?_ ” She was not going to disrobe in front of a stranger! What did Morgause take her for?

Morgause looked a little amused by her reaction. “I did not mean for you to lie around in your shift; I have a pair of trousers and a tunic that may fit you. It might not be fit for a Lady of your _status,_ ” Morgana was sure the woman was mocking her words from earlier, but said nothing, “but it would cool you down well enough for you to walk without your legs giving from under you.”

“I…” Morgana started, looking unsure of how to receive the offer. While it would be a blessing to get out of this dress, Morgana did not wish to be seen running around Camelot in men’s clothing. “I couldn’t…” she finished, feeling as though she should probably just suffer until Gwen came back; perhaps then she would fetch her something suitable.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Morgause insisted, brushing off the Ward’s protests as she started rummaging through her knapsack. “You need not make yourself miserable to uphold your dignity in front of me, Morgana; I am no one worth impressing.”

“You’re wrong.”

The words left Morgana’s mouth before she could stop them, and as Morgause’s hands stilled and she turned towards her, the brunette’s cheeks flushed a violent shade of red. 

“I just meant that I am expected to uphold my dignity in front of everyone, not just certain people,” Morgana backtracked, but the look on Morgause’s face indicated it was not successful. The blonde’s lips were upturned in a small smile though, so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Morgana gave up on making excuses, and with rosy cheeks returned the smile with a shy one of her own.

“Here,” Morgause offered after a moment, handing Morgana the clothing she had spoken of. She returned to a standing position and finished, “I’ll leave you to your privacy now.”

“No!”

Morgause stopped, and once again Morgana colored in embarrassment over her outburst. “I just, well I just mean to say that it… it would be a shame if I was robbed of such company,” she stumbled, chewing slightly on her bottom lip. She felt like such a child all of a sudden, but Morgana took a breath and sorted her thoughts before speaking again. “I wish to stay here until Gwen returns so that she may fetch me proper attire, and I don’t want to wait alone. If you do not have other responsibilities to get back to, after I have finished dressing I would like it if you… stayed.” Her last word was small, unsure. Morgana’s gaze averted from Morgause, which was a shame because if it hadn’t she would’ve seen the largest of smiles.

“I would love that.”

[x]

It’s strange how one can speak so much, yet say so little. It was not a particular skill that Morgause prided herself on, but there was so much she could not yet tell Morgana. Part of her ached to just let it all out, to tell her sister everything and pray that she would agree to run away with her, but to act on such desires would be unwise. She would have to gain Morgana’s trust first if she ever hoped to take her away from all of this, and trust took time to build.

Morgause did not expect in a million years that Morgana would just walk right into her life. The Gods bestowed blessings in the most unimaginable of ways, and this time they seemed to have outdone themselves. 

Once, when Morgause was a little girl, Aunt Llamrei had said that it was foretold by the High Priestess Nimueh that the two Le Fay sisters would help bring about the return of magick to Albion. Morgause, who believed fate was what one brought about with their own two hands, did not believe it at the time. She had just thought that Llamrei was trying to ease her pain about being so detached from her only living blood. But perhaps, with the way things were falling into place, Morgause would be wise to reconsider her beliefs about such things as fate and destiny. It seemed the Gods were on her side and she would be a fool if she thought there was not a reason behind that.

Morgana had fallen asleep mid-conversation, and within moments Morgause found herself with her sister’s head on her lap. It seemed to be an unconscious movement on Morgana’s part – perhaps just a desire to feel some closeness – but it made Morgause smile. She ran her fingers through loose, raven curls as she found herself in awe of how easy this had all been.

Maybe that just meant that the hard times were soon to come, but Morgause chose not to worry about that; for now, she was happy. She had her sister, _finally,_ after all these years of longing to be by her side. The feeling was indescribable. They were both bound by the magick that ran through their veins – a connection that ran deeper than anything mere mortals could ever hope to feel – and though Morgana couldn’t possibly know that it was the reason behind her strange feelings, Morgause could tell that the Ward felt it just as strong as she. It was in the way that Morgana looked at her, the tone in her voice, the feeling of lightning when their skin met. It was clear it perplexed the young witch, but Morgause knew she could not yet ease that confusion, and so she watched as Morgana attempted to sort it out for herself. Perhaps she never would without being told, but Morgause could not deny that it was endearing to watch the brunette become so flustered over her inexplicable feelings.

Nimble fingers brushed over soft skin, and one single smile sought to erase years of loneliness and doubt. It was beautiful. _She_ was beautiful. It was strange; their eye color, hair color… opposites. And yet their features were so strongly Le Fay that Morgause could not believe that Morgana couldn’t see it. They were threads of the same tapestry; different on their own, but together weaving the most beautiful of patterns.

Morgause looked up when she heard the door open. The look on Gwen’s face when she spotted them was not surprising to her, given their current position and attire, but Morgause still found herself embarrassed. It did look rather compromising from an outside perspective. 

“The heat was getting to her,” Morgause explained, her tone hushed so as to not wake the girl on her lap. “She had collapsed, so I offered her some lighter clothes and a place to rest; I hope you don’t mind that we used your bed, but I didn’t think a cot would give her much comfort.”

“No, of course I don’t mind,” Gwen responded, leaning against the doorway as her face masked in concern. “You said she collapsed?”

Morgause nodded. “She was wearing this dreadfully heavy gown…” she motioned towards the dress Morgana had once been clothed in, hanging over the doorway. Gwen’s eyebrows rose when she saw it.

“ _This_ gown?” Gwen asked in surprise, taking the garment into her hands. “But this is meant only for formal occasions.”

“So I assumed.”

Gwen looked up at her, then down at Morgana. She shook her head, yet had the faintest of smiles on her face. She was amused, and that perplexed Morgause slightly, but she didn’t think it her place to ask why. “I’ll fetch one more suitable from the castle,” Gwen offered. “I shudder to think of her walking back in this once she wakes.” 

“Thank you,” answered Morgause graciously. That was what Morgana had wanted and it was nice that she did not have to request it herself; she would have found it an awkward conversation, as Gwen did not serve her.

Gwen was gone no more than a moment when Morgana began to stir.

Unfortunately, the second Morgana opened her eyes and realized where she was lying, she shot up so fast that her head connected with Morgause’s chin. “Oh god, I’m so sorry!” Morgana apologized, flustered and blushing as she touched Morgause’s face, as if the connection would diminish the pain. “Did I hurt you? I didn’t—I mean, I was just startled; I didn’t think that I—”

“I’m fine, I promise,” Morgause insisted, though the impact did seem to leave waves of pain in its aftermath. She was sure she would be bruised tomorrow, but honestly it didn’t matter. Morgana looked so concerned as she ran her fingers delicately against her skin that it made Morgause’s heart beat faster. There was something in the way that Morgana looked at her that made Morgause feel as though she should look away, and so she broke the contact as she coaxed her sister’s hand away from her face. “I did not mean to startle you.”

Morgana pursed her lips, looking a little put out that Morgause had moved her hand away. But it was only for a moment. Again her face masked in guilt as she explained, “No, it wasn’t you. I just didn’t remember falling asleep in your lap and so the position was what had startled me.”

Morgause rubbed her chin. The pain was dulling. “You shifted in your sleep; I did not have the heart to move you back and risk waking you.”

“Oh.” Morgana pursed her lips and reached out again after a moment’s silence, touching Morgause’s chin once more. “Are you sure you’re alright? Perhaps I should tend to that.”

“I’m fine,” Morgause insisted, taking Morgana’s hand in hers and moving it away from her face once more. She did not let go however, merely loosening her hand so as to allow Morgana to pull away if she saw fit. She didn’t for a long time, but it seemed that when Morgana did notice that their fingers were intertwined, she cleared her throat awkwardly as she moved ever so slightly away from her, embarrassed.

It made Morgause wonder for a moment if Morgana believed that what she felt between them was something born from attraction, and not from their magickal bond. She hoped that wasn’t the case, as that would make everything far more complicated than it already was. Even the mere thought threatened to give Morgause a migraine.

“Gwen is getting you some proper clothing,” Morgause told her to fill the silence. “She should be back soon.”

Morgana turned quickly to look back at her. “ _Gwen_ saw me…?”

“Sleeping?” Morgause finished for her, even though she knew that wasn’t what Morgana was so flustered about. Morgana looked like she was going to correct her, but seemed to think better of it as she stood.

“I’ve imposed on you far too much this evening,” Morgana told her diplomatically, slipping back into the proper Ward she was expected to be. “I’ll leave you to your business; I can wait for Gwen outside.”

“You could never,” Morgause told her honestly. When Morgana looked back at her, confusion in her eyes, the blonde woman explained, “Impose.”

Morgana looked grateful for that, yet it was obvious she was trying to hide it. After a moment, she smiled softly at Morgause. “It was wonderful to meet you. I do hope we get to spend more time together.”

Morgana’s sudden change of behavior was a little perplexing, but Morgause chose not to dwell on it. Instead she returned Morgana’s smile with one of her own. “As do I, my Lady.”

**TBC…**


	4. Unwise Complications

**CHAPTER IV  
Unwise Complications**

“Arthur, don’t you think you could stand to be a _little_ kinder to your manservant?” Morgana chided, watching as Arthur used the new boy as target practice out in the knights’ practice arena. While the other knights laughed at Arthur’s display of childish cruelty, Morgana merely looked disgruntled. This was why he went through at least two a year; the poor boys end up begging for other jobs. It was awful.

“What?” Arthur feigned innocence while swinging his sword down once more. “He likes it; don’t you, Merlin?” The new serving boy nearly tripped over himself trying to allow the sword to connect with the shield instead of his head. He fell to the ground as Arthur goaded, “Job of a lifetime, isn’t that right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Merlin replied sarcastically as he hoisted himself back onto his feet. “I lie awake every night in anxious anticipation for the next time I can see your face. Honestly, every day is a blessing with you; I don’t know how I survived before this.”

Morgana laughed and Arthur scowled.

“The stables need cleaning,” he said, obviously thinking of the messiest job he could to pay Merlin back for his outright displeasure about serving him. “Then when you’re done with that, my armor needs polishing and the floors in my bedchambers need scrubbing. I expect them to sparkle when I return, is that understood?”

Merlin just stared at him, like he couldn’t believe he had just been given that many duties at once.

“Well?” Arthur went on. “Don’t just stand around with that stupid look on your face; get it done!”

As Merlin bitterly trudged off, muttering comments under his breath that went unheard, Morgana shot Arthur a disapproving look. “You’re being rather obnoxious, you know.” Most people would not dare to speak to the King’s son in such a manner, but they grew up together and such formalities didn’t really exist between the two of them. “You’ve had him for, what? Two days? You should take it easy on him, less you wish to find yourself in the market for another servant. You know how the King hates it when you run them off like that.”

Arthur sighed, obviously not too keen on speaking about this. “It’s none of your concern, Morgana. I’ll be glad to be rid of him anyway; he’s a complete pain in my arse. I don’t know why my father assigned him to me.”

“Nor do I, however I’d be lying if I didn’t say it was nice to see at least one of them take a bit of a stand with you.” Arthur shot her a dark look. “What?” Morgana asked, feigning innocence as he did before. “I think your ego could do with a bit of a challenge; who knows, it may even make you _humble._ ” She giggled, as if that thought was unprecedented. Arthur had his moments, but it would be a lie to say that he wasn’t pigheaded in his youth. As heir to the throne of Camelot however, it probably would have been foolish to expect otherwise. 

“Do you have a purpose here, Morgana?” inquired Arthur in a huffy tone. “My knights and I have training to do and we would appreciate it if we didn’t have running commentary throughout it.”

Morgana outright rolled her eyes at his attitude. There was once a time when he could take her comments, no matter how blunt they may be, but as of late Arthur seemed to have a much shorter fuse. Morgana had assumed that it was due to the copious amount of new responsibilities that Uther had recently rested upon his shoulders, but wasn’t that expected when he came of age? Perhaps it was something else, but Morgana was convinced it was just due to stress. Therefore, she let his rudeness slide.

“Gwen and I were planning on having a picnic this afternoon and I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind us borrowing your horse. But if it’s too much trouble…”

Arthur furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong with yours?”

“She’s expecting a foal. Acheflour should give birth just before this year’s Harvest, so I’ve been instructed not to ride her for awhile. Did the stable boy not tell you?”

A scoff followed. “Right, because we often sit down and converse about meaningless topics when I have matters of State to attend to.” Morgana practically gagged on the air of Arthur’s self-importance.

“And what matters might you be referring to?” she challenged, compelled to bring his newfound arrogance down a peg or two. “You and I both know that only the King has a say on such things. You merely observe for educational purposes.”

Arthur colored in annoyance. “Do you wish to use my steed or not?” he bit back, unhappy with the truth in Morgana’s statement. “Because I’m inclined to make you walk to your picnic.”

“Don’t be like that.” 

Morgana was sure Arthur was merely going through a phase, but it was starting to make conversing with him incredibly difficult. She understood his position was beginning to weigh a heavy burden upon his shoulders, but there was no need for him to take out his frustration on others. Morgana could take a lot, but there was a point where she became frustrated herself. Did he not believe that she herself had difficulties with the expectations that followed her coming of age? Arthur at least did not have the fear of being sold to the highest bidder; instead he would be the one doing the bidding on some other King’s daughter or Ward one day. He, at least, had the gift of choice. She did not, nor would she ever.

Arthur waved his hand dismissively, apparently finding it more prudent to rid his presence of Morgana rather than continue to aggravate her. “Just take him; I have more important things to do than argue with you all day.”

Due to his attitude, Morgana made a point not to thank him. “I’ll have him back before nightfall.” 

She received no response, Arthur having pointedly turned back to his knights to indicate that they were finished with the conversation. Wishing to get away from him herself, Morgana started to head back towards the castle, intent on finding Gwen and having a pleasant rest of her day.

[x]

Achieving absolute stillness was a skill Morgause mastered early in her life. Magick was a force that was akin to a raging river when left untamed, with the ability to drown anyone in its wake should the wielder be foolish enough to harness its power without first finding the tranquility within themselves to calm it. True power was only achieved through immense control over one’s mind and body, which quickly proved to become a helpful tool for Morgause when it came to the art of the hunt.

Success was measured by awareness. Though most measured awareness by what their sight could provide for them, that was merely a fraction of the senses that were required for true mindfulness of one’s surroundings. The sounds of the forest, the feel of her muscles tensing as she raised her bow, had always told Morgause more than her sight alone. She did not think about where her arrow needed to go once she spotted her prey, nor did she second guess her position and move in favor of a better angle. Clearing her mind and stilling her body allowed her to focus on the sound of the animal’s heartbeat, on the feel of the wind’s direction, so that when she released her arrow Morgause was certain she had taken every factor of her environment into account. 

She did not always succeed, but she found her chance of failure significantly lessened that way.

Morgause treaded lightly through the forest, careful not to make a sound should she come across any game. Though there was no shortage of food in Camelot, she felt as though it would be a nice gesture to bring back some fresh meat for Gwen and her father, as a thank you for housing her when they had no obligation to show her such kindness. If it wasn’t for them she would still be sleeping on the streets, no closer to finding a way to her sister than when she first entered the city.

Having access to Morgana was merely the first step, however. The second was to get her sister to trust her enough to leave with her, which Morgause was finding rather difficult as trust required truth, which she was unable to provide her with at the moment. But how could she be honest with her? Telling her who she truly was this early in their relationship was dangerous, as Morgana had no reason to believe her. Even worse, if she knew she had magick she could turn around and tell Uther, who would surely have her hanged. Morgause was afraid that his hatred had poisoned Morgana’s mind; as she grew up with the King her entire life, she was probably raised to fear sorcery as much as he.  
Thinking about those things now was doing Morgause no favors however, so she tried to push her anxiety from her mind and focus on what she came here to do. 

The shade from the trees provided much needed protection from the blazing afternoon sun, which Morgause was thankful for. This summer had been the hottest Albion had seen in nearly two decades. Llamrei heeded caution for that very reason, as her people believed that when the sun raged that nothing but fear and death followed in its wake. It had been like that during the Great Purge and despite Morgause’s hesitation to believe such a sign, it still made her stomach churn in anticipation.

Morgause halted as she came across a stream. As far as hunting grounds came, it was the best she would come by. All animals needed to drink, and on a day like today she was sure to find that many would pass by for a short relief from the heat. So after finding a suitable vantage point behind a large oak, Morgause crouched down, blending her form into its provided shade, and waited.

It didn’t take long.

Not even a mere thirty paces in front of her, a large hare came into sight. Though one rabbit would barely stand to feed three mouths, Morgause had the patience to wait for another. She had all afternoon. Making the decision, she slowly raised her body to a standing position and fitted her arrow. Morgause did not rush herself, allowing the time to find the accuracy she needed. The sound of the stream filled her ears as she drew her arm backwards, holding tight to the arrow until she was certain that releasing it would yield results. She took a deep breath as she cleared her mind, allowing her instincts to take over her body. It would not do to overthink this, but she still had to be aware of her surroundings at any given moment.

The forest was still, giving Morgause the sign she needed to proceed. She released her arrow.

The animal fell to the ground without a sound. Lips forming into a small smile at her achievement, Morgause brought herself over to the fallen hare. As she knelt down, she silently gave thanks to the animal for its sacrifice before carefully removing the arrow from its chest. She had been taught as a small child to never take anything for granted, for the Gods would see fit to punish those that do. Every life was worth something, especially if its death furthered one’s own.

The silence of the forest was broken shortly thereafter as Morgause heard the sound of horse hooves, followed by the lull of muffled voices in the distance. Picking up her game, Morgause quickly headed back to her original spot by the oak, camouflaging herself from view in its shade. Though she was certain that hunting in these parts of the King’s land was not illegal, she did not wish to meet any strangers whilst doing so. Hunting, for her, was a private affair. 

Two figures came into view of the clearing. Though they were quite some distance away, Morgause would recognize the figures astride the white steed anywhere. She watched Gwen dismount the horse first, extending her hand to help Morgana to the ground. If they were anyone else, Morgause would have found herself annoyed that her hunting grounds had been compromised by intruders, yet instead she watched from behind the tree with a small smile on her face as they laid out some furs along the riverbank, intent on enjoying their meal by the water. It warmed her heart that her sister had found such a good friend in her maidservant. In a place shrouded with so much hatred and fear, it truly was a blessing. Morgause would never wish Morgana loneliness, especially in a city such as Camelot. It would have felt akin to a death sentence in itself.

Not wishing to disturb them, Morgause moved a little farther away to try to find another place to hunt. 

After awhile though, it was obvious that relocating was making things more difficult. There was no way to predict which path an animal would take to get to the stream, causing this to become a longer outing than originally intended. Morgause tried to suppress her impatience by closing her eyes, trying to find the tranquility within her as she focused on the sound of the nature that surrounded her. She had come out here with a purpose and she sought to see it through; it would have been foolish to believe that everything would come easy to her anyhow.

A branch snapped beneath the weight of someone, or something’s feet not far from where she stood.

Quick as lightning, Morgause had fitted her arrow and drew her arm backwards as she turned towards the sound. Just as she opened her eyes to identify her target, she heard a yelp of surprise. Immediately her arm dropped and an apologetic look clouded her face. She should have known.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t realize it was you.”

Morgana, whose face had gone white as a sheet not mere moments before, exhaled a heavy breath as color slowly returned to her cheeks. “It is I who should apologize; I didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that. I should have called out the moment I noticed it was you, but curiosity got the better of me.” She blushed slightly as she added, “A lesson well-learned.”

As Morgause replaced the arrow back into her quiver she said, “I’m just glad you learned it from me and not someone whose instincts were to shoot before first finding their awareness. You could have been badly hurt, if not killed.”

Morgana’s eyes found the ground. “I know.” Her quiet voice was filled with shame. Morgause pursed her lips; she did not wish to make her feel foolish, even though it was a foolish thing to have done. It was not her place to chide her.

Morgause had a strong desire to switch the topic before she made her sister feel any worse, so she mentioned, “I’m sorry I disturbed your picnic. That was not my intention.”

“You didn’t,” Morgana immediately answered. “I was merely—” but she stopped herself, realizing what Morgause had just said. “You knew we were there?” she asked, surprised. “Why did you not join us?”

“Like I said, I wished not to disturb you.”

“You could never,” Morgana said all in one breath, before she seemed to realize her eagerness for Morgause’s company and she blushed once more. The blonde tried to hide her smile, finding Morgana’s shyness endearing. “I just meant that… that we would have welcomed the company, is all,” she tried again, though her gaze looked everywhere but at Morgause. 

Before she could answer, Morgana continued, trying to steer the conversation away from the topic that had caused her embarrassment. “Were you hunting?” But that seemed to get her even more flustered as she shook her head, nervously laughing at her own question. “I suppose the answer to that should be obvious though, given your bow and current spoils. I’m sorry,” she apologized, feeling foolish as she pushed her hair back from her face. “I think the heat this summer has been getting to me more than I would like to admit. I’m not often this…” she waved her hand erratically, seemingly unable to find the word to describe her current state.

Morgause smirked.

Before she could stop herself, the words fell from her mouth. “That’s a shame; I find nerves to be an endearing state in a beautiful woman. Perfection is so very overrated.” Though her comment had obviously embarrassed Morgana further, Morgause noticed that when she bit her lower lip it was to keep herself from smiling.

Now it was Morgause’s turn to feel uncomfortable. She did not mean for the compliment to sound so flirtatious, but instinct overran her good sense. Yes, her sister was beautiful, but it would not do to confuse their bond with romantic implications. It was bad enough that Morgana seemed to already; her crush was more than blatant at this point and Morgause did not need to encourage it further. That was not what she came here for. In fact, romance had never been anything she was interested in at all, which made it frustrating that her instinct now was to go there first. However, she pointedly chose not to dwell on it. Perhaps Morgana was right; the heat made people do funny things.

“I apologize,” she said, trying not to let on that she too was embarrassed by their current conversation. “I did not mean to sound so forward. My intentions with you are not like that, I promise you.”

“You admit then, that you have intentions?” Morgana asked her quietly, almost as though she were afraid to ask the question at all. Despite her hesitation, her eyes still connected with Morgause. The intensity of her gaze bore into her and made the pit of the blonde’s stomach burn fiercely.

This could only spell trouble.

“I misspoke,” Morgause denied, averting her gaze from her sister. But before she could explain, Gwen’s voice filled the forest. The timing could not have been better, for Morgause didn’t know how to explain herself to Morgana just then. She obviously couldn’t tell her the truth. Not now, anyhow.

“My Lady…?”

That seemed to snap Morgana out of the haze she had fallen into and she cleared her throat, backing away from Morgause a few paces. “I’m here,” she called out. Her eyes flickered up to Morgause before she wrapped her arms around herself self-consciously, turning her back towards her so she could greet her friend. Her own boldness must have startled her and she was now beginning to regret it, something Morgause wasn’t sure if she should be grateful for or not. 

When Gwen came into view, her eyes fell on Morgause and a confused, yet happy expression crossed her face. “Morgause!” she exclaimed, surprised to see her. “What are you doing out here? Did my father tell you where we had gone off to for the afternoon?” Gwen must have believed that she had come out this way looking for them, quite possibly to join them on their picnic. But Morgause would never intrude like that; she barely knew them and it would seem rather rude to assume she had a standing invitation, so she was quick to correct her.

“No, I…” she held the rabbit up by its feet, showing Gwen her spoils. As silly as it seemed, Morgause felt as though she had to show proof that she didn’t seek them out intentionally. “I had thought it’d be nice to get something for you and your father for dinner tonight. I didn’t mean to interrupt your outing.”

Gwen’s smile lit up her entire face. “Oh, you didn’t have to do that!” Morgause merely shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal of it. “That’s very sweet of you, I’m sure Father will be pleased.”

Behind her maidservant, Morgana was fidgeting slightly. Morgause knitted her eyebrows. “Are you alright, my Lady?” she asked, keeping the formality of Morgana’s title in front of Gwen, even though she had barely done so whenever it was just the two of them. Strange, how Morgana never seemed to care either. Perhaps on some level she knew they were equals, even if she wasn’t conscious of it.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, taking a few steps back. “Would you excuse me for a moment?”

“Of course.”

Morgana gave her a small, grateful smile before making her way back towards the river. Perplexed by her behavior, Morgause frowned. Gwen, however, merely giggled to herself. That got the blonde’s attention. “Have I done something?” Morgause asked her, wondering if she had driven Morgana off by unintentionally, yet constantly, embarrassing her. She would not have been surprised.

“Oh no, I don’t believe it’s you,” Gwen insisted, still quite amused by the situation. “I suspect you distracted her from her original destination was all. When I showed up, I’m guessing she became all too aware of it again.”

At first Gwen’s answer confused Morgause further, but then she realized what she meant: Morgana had originally come this way to relieve herself. Morgause laughed softly, “Oh.” She should have known that was why she had ventured up this way alone, but she didn’t think about it.

“You should join us,” Gwen offered, turning towards her. Her smile was inviting; Morgause believed it would be hard for anyone to ever say no to her. She also knew though that it would be best to try. “I know Morgana would love it if you did.”

Morgause chewed on the inside of her cheek. So Morgana’s crush was not just visible to her then; that made it so much worse. This was complicating things and things were already complicated enough. She pushed the hair back from her face, heart pounding in her chest. “I don’t think it wise.” Though it would be a good opportunity to get to know her sister better, Morgause suddenly found herself wary of where this could go if she did not tread more carefully.

“Wise for whom?” Gwen questioned. Though it was said innocently, her quirked eyebrow gave her away.

Despite herself, Morgause smirked. “You’re bold,” she noted. She liked that about the girl; it was not often that maidservants had such a fierce streak within them. Most would be too scared to voice their opinion on any matter to do with their mistresses, but then again, it was clear that Gwen and Morgana were much closer than their titles implied.

“So I’ve often been told.”

Morgause was silent, not knowing how to decline her request without giving a suitable reason, of which she was unsure of herself. As it turned out though, she didn’t have to.

“She smiles when she sees you, speaks of you. I like that,” Gwen told her, her voice lowered just in case Morgana was near enough to hear them. Her words warmed Morgause, though she tried to suppress the feeling. “Though of course, if you have your reasons, I will not push the matter. I just thought you should know, for its doubtful the Lady Morgana will ever speak of it herself.”

Morgause did not doubt that. In fact, part of her hoped for it.

“I’ll leave you to your hunting,” Gwen said, realizing Morgause was far too into her own thoughts to reply. She bowed her head slightly in respect before she took her leave, but she didn’t get very far once Morgause found it in herself to speak.

“It warms my heart,” she said sincerely, quietly, “to see that she has a friend like you.”

“I just want to see her happy.” Gwen faced her just before backing up a few more steps, her genuine smile slowly turning to a knowing smirk as she finished, “And though you have only known her for a few days, it seems you do too. Curious, don’t you think?” 

The maidservant did not wait for her answer. She turned back, walking from view a few seconds later to rejoin her mistress. Which was good, because Morgause did not know how she would even _begin_ to respond to something like that.

**TBC…**


	5. Soulbonding

**CHAPTER V  
Soulbonding**

“I think I’m going mad.”

Morgana was pacing back in forth in her bedchambers, drumming her hands erratically against her hips. Her thoughts were plaguing her, the dream she had last night replaying in her head over and over in some vile attempt to torture her sanity. Morgana knew that it shouldn’t matter; dreams could mean all sorts of things. But the seed had been planted the day before in her mind, and overnight seemed to sprout into an uncontrollable realization that Morgana no longer had any hope of suppressing. 

It suffocated her.

“You’re not going mad,” Gwen responded patiently, absorbed in hemming the bottom of the dress her mistress had worn, and torn, the previous day. “Though if you don’t mind me saying so, it was probably foolish of you to try to _run_ back to Camelot yesterday. Who knows what could’ve happened to you; you’re lucky a scraped knee and torn garment was the worst of it.”

Morgana felt ashamed. It was not like her to do something like that. “I know, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to worry you. I just… I had to get back. It was urgent.”

“You left your horse, Morgana. That doesn’t seem like the quickest way to get back to your ‘urgent’ matter, regardless of the circumstances.”

“I didn’t want to leave you without a way back,” she answered, although even to her own ears the excuse sounded flimsy. Morgana sighed heavily, leaning against the wall as she closed her eyes. She felt so defeated; she could never hide anything from Gwen. Sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder why she even bothered to try. It was always such a futile task.

“Does she scare you that much?”

The question was said so lightly that Morgana could not understand how it felt as though the words were crushing her beneath their massive weight. “I’m not scared of her,” she vehemently denied, not enjoying how weak and foolish that made her sound. “I don’t even know her.”

The needle stopped in Gwen’s hand. She looked up at her. “But you admit she was why you ran?” It seemed she did not expect it. Morgana didn’t either.

“I… was overwhelmed,” Morgana forced herself to admit. It was difficult. It sounded so childish, didn’t it? She was nearly a woman, she should not be acting in such a manner; it was completely unbecoming. “She makes me feel something I don’t understand. And worse, I believe she knows that now.”

Gwen put down her stitching, a small smile crossing her face. She seemed happy that Morgana was finally speaking about it; Lord only knew what she must have been thinking as she watched her fall all over herself for days over some stranger. She must have looked so ridiculous. She probably still does.

“I think it’s sweet, that you’ve taken to someone.”

“I haven’t taken to her!” Morgana denied. Gwen looked at her skeptically and Morgana huffed, feeling flustered that her friend would believe that. That wasn’t how she felt, not really. It was so hard to explain, she barely understood it herself. “It’s more complicated than attraction, Gwen. It’s like I’m being pulled to her, or perhaps like I never left her. I don’t know, but I swear to you that this is different. I’m not—!” But she couldn’t even bring herself to say the word.

“Sapphic?” Gwen finished for her pointedly. Morgana glowered.

“I don’t want to sleep with her! At least I don’t think so. I don’t know, I haven’t really given much thought to it, if you must know!” Morgana was quickly becoming frustrated. She knew she wasn’t explaining this right, yet Morgana continued to try. “And even if I did, it wouldn’t be _sexual._ ”

“No?” Gwen’s voice held amusing skepticism. Morgana couldn’t blame her; it did sound rather ridiculous.

“I know it sounds maddening, but it’s like I know she’s… mine.” A furious blush covered the Ward’s cheeks and she collapsed on her bed, covering her face with her hands. “I must be completely mental,” she mumbled. “There is no sanity to this, is there? Even I know I’m not making much sense. I just… I feel like I need to be a part of her life. God, I don’t even _know_ her.”

As Morgana groaned, Gwen picked herself up off the floor to come sit by her on the bed. Her hand covered her knee in a gesture of comfort. “Perhaps you’re soulbonded.” 

Morgana took her hands from her face to shoot her friend a disbelieving look. “That’s ridiculous. Why would I be soulbonded to a woman?” 

The Elders in Camelot often told tales of soulbonded lovers, but they were merely stories. Besides, they had always featured the love between a man and a woman; Morgana wasn’t even sure legend allowed soulbonding between two people of the same gender. Perhaps there was such a thing as platonic soulbonding? But Morgana had never heard stories of that either.

“Do you have any other explanation for it? You’re being drawn to her in a way even you can’t explain. Perhaps you are even the reason Morgause came to Camelot, whether she’s aware of it or not.”

“Soulbonding is just a fairytale, Gwen.”

“All fairytales are based in truth,” she responded pointedly. Though Morgana did not wish to admit it, she knew Gwen was right about that. Still, it just sounded like such a bizarre concept.

“So what do you expect me to do? March down to there and tell her I believe we’re soulbonded so we can what, _ride off into the sunset?_ ” Morgana’s words were heavy with mockery, even though the picture was not exactly a bad one. She tried to wipe the image from her mind.

“Of course not, _that_ would be mental.”

The brunette noticeably deflated, at a loss about what to do. She didn’t even know what it was she even wanted from Morgause. Right now, all she knew was that she longed to be near her. Her heart ached when she wasn’t. “I dreamt of her last night,” Morgana said after a long moment’s silence. She didn’t even know why she was admitting to such a thing, yet the words fell from her mouth with ease.

“Oh?” Gwen gently inquired, careful not to push her. 

Morgana furrowed her eyebrows, trying to remember as much of it as she was able. “It was strange. I was reaching for her, though she was already wrapped around me. Like she was already a part of me, yet for some reason I couldn’t see it.”

“Then how did you know she was there?”

“It was like I was watching it through another’s eyes,” Morgana answered, knowing that it sounded strange. But then again, dreams were never in the habit of making much sense. She shrugged, slumping slightly against Gwen. Her friend wrapped her arms around her, knowing she needed the comfort. It was exhausting, being so confused about things.

“Do you know what I think?” Gwen began, brushing a long, dark ringlet away from her friend’s face. Morgana did not answer; she knew Gwen would tell her regardless. She did not disappoint. “You should invite her to your birthday.”

Morgana sat up straight with widened eyes. “I couldn’t do that! What would everyone think?” Gwen merely blinked at her, clearly not understanding Morgana’s protests.

“That you befriended your maidservant’s houseguest?”

_Oh._

“I thought you meant…”

“I don’t think it’s wise to bring her as your date, my Lady,” Gwen heeded cautiously. “The King would be furious; it would cause a lot of unrest in the Kingdom. Our city’s religion is not kind when it comes to such matters, but I still believe you should follow your heart. Should you feel you want more than anything to be with her, please take caution. You are still, unfortunately, destined to be married off to a prince.”

The thought of her future marriage arrangements made Morgana sick to her stomach. She would rather live in her own world where she would not be forced to think of such matters until they actually became a reality; it was easier that way.

“You say this as if I’m the one with a choice in the matter. Even if I do find that I feel for her, Morgause might not see me in the same light.”

Gwen looked at her like she had gone mad. “If she doesn’t, then she’s a fool. You are the most beautiful Lady in the Kingdom and any man _or_ woman would be lucky to have your affections.” The sentiment warmed Morgana’s heart and she smiled. Covering Gwen’s hand with her own, she squeezed it lightly.

“You are by far the best friend that anyone could ask for, Guinevere. “

Her smile was returned. “Think about it,” Gwen responded as she rubbed her knee encouragingly. “That’s all I’m asking. It might do you well to spend some more time with her. I think you might even enjoy it.”

Perhaps, if she was not constantly finding some way to make a fool of herself. But that possibility seemed slim so Morgana hesitated, although she knew it would probably not be for long. 

The pull was too strong to resist.

[x]

“Do you plan to stand there long? You must be getting cold; the wind is holding quite the chill tonight.”

As Morgause did not turn around, she was unsurprised to hear Morgana gasp behind her. She smirked, amused by the reaction she caused. She had felt her sister the moment she had arrived, which was strange because Morgause had never had such an intense awareness of Morgana’s presence before. Their bond had strengthened rather intensely – seemingly overnight – and Morgause knew there had to be a reason for it. It bore at her curiosity as to what had changed; Morgana’s binding spell was still intact for another week, so it could not have been the emergence of her magick. 

Morgause turned her head to look at her.

“How long have you known I was there?” Morgana asked, her expression a mixture of curiosity and embarrassment as she peered up at her. 

“For about as long as you’ve been there,” Morgause answered honestly, yet did not care to elaborate on how she knew. Despite herself, she did like how Morgana looked at her when she shrouded herself in mystery; it was like her sister had never seen anything more fascinating in her life. Perhaps it was just a way to continue to hold her attention; if she were to be honest, she had a few insecurities in that area. “How long have you been looking for me?” 

Morgause found she was restless, so she had gone out for a walk quite some time ago. She finally came to rest at the west end of the city’s walls, where she made the personal challenge to climb it. If the stone had been laid evenly, it would have proven to be a difficult task. Although with a little help from an empty barrel of ale and the fact that it hadn’t rained in nearly a month, Morgause found herself atop it fairly quickly. The view was beautiful and she found it calmed her.

“Not long.”

“No?” Morgause questioned in surprise, wondering if that were really true. Morgana averted her gaze though and she had her answer before her sister even spoke.

“Well not in comparison to… longer things,” she finished lamely. Even in just the light cast by the moon, Morgause could see a blush color her cheeks. She smiled softly, yet tried to hide it. She should probably not enjoy her sister’s nervousness as much as she found she did.

To try to relax her a little Morgause replied with, “Well I’m glad you found me.” She got a smile out of that, which made her feel a little better. 

She really should try not to embarrass Morgana so thoroughly, but sometimes she just enjoyed seeing her blush and stumble all over herself. It was a dangerous game to be playing for sure though, so she inwardly chided herself for it. Especially after what Gwen had said to her, she really could not afford to lead Morgana on in any way. It wouldn’t be fair to her, as she did not know their lineage. 

“How did you get up there?” Morgana asked after a moment’s silence that allowed her to collect herself. Morgause smirked.

“I climbed.”

“Well I wouldn’t think that you _flew,_ ” Morgana responded with a bit of an eye roll. She bit her bottom lip as she looked at the wall. “Show me,” she requested eagerly.

“You expect to climb a wall in a dress?” Morgause replied, laughing softly. She was mad if she believed it could be done; she would not have enough room to move her legs in that.

Morgana, with a bit of a challenge in her eyes, stared right at her as she bent down and with one strong, purposeful motion, ripped the hem up the side of her dress. Morgause raised her eyebrows as she watched Morgana follow with the other side. “Now I do,” she said, putting her hands on her hips in pride of her little achievement.

“Gwen is going to kill you.”

“She’ll understand,” Morgana insisted. “Now show me.” She waved her hand at her impatiently, encouraging Morgause to come down and show her. The elder sister in her obeyed without question, feeling compelled to teach Morgana something, anything. She quickly scaled down the wall.

As Morgause climbed back up – slowly, to show Morgana exactly where she had to step – she found she rather enjoyed being the teacher. All her life it was others who imparted their wisdom on her, and though there wasn’t anything rather special about showing someone how to climb a wall, it still made her feel good to do it. 

“Be careful here,” Morgause instructed when she had almost reached the top. “The edge that sticks out is slimmer than the others, so if you do not step on it just right you could fall.” She demonstrated, then hoisted herself all the way up once more to sit atop the wall. She looked down at Morgana. “Now you try.”

Morgana, for all of her determination before, now looked a little nervous at the prospect of falling. “What if I slip?”

“I’ll catch you.”

“But what if you’re not in reach?”

“ _I’ll catch you._ ” 

Though there was no logic behind the promise that her sister could see, Morgause could tell that Morgana believed her. Her expression held more comfort in the situation than it did previously and she stepped towards the wall. 

Morgana was slow, tentative, as she began to climb the wall. Morgause looked down at her, watching her sister’s every move. She meant it when she said she’d catch her… even if it involved using magick. Perhaps it was foolish, but she would rather expose herself early than allow Morgana to get hurt. 

As Morgana grew up a Lady of the castle, it was doubtful she was ever allowed to indulge in “boyish” pastimes like climbing and the like. It would have been unbecoming of her. Which was probably why Morgana looked so happy while she did it; she was enjoying the rebellion against her specified gender role. It made Morgause smile.

But it seemed that Morgana was having too much fun and had forgotten her warning, so when she came upon the tricky stone she did not have enough leverage and her foot slipped.

Morgana let out a fearful yelp, but Morgause was quick. She reached for her, but as Morgana had feared she was too far from her. Their fingertips touched and Morgause, afraid for her sister, did not think. Her eyes took on a golden hue as she focused all of her effort into pulling Morgana towards her. As it wasn’t very far it did not take much effort until she had her hand wrapped around her wrist, allowing her to pull her sister up next to her on the wall. Morgana looked out of sorts. Her breathing was heavy and she clung to Morgause as she looked down at the ground, no doubt imagining what it would have been like should she have fallen. Her heartbeat was rapid; Morgause could feel it against her chest. 

To calm her, the sorceress ran her fingers through Morgana’s hair as she cradled her. “I told you I wouldn’t let you fall.”

“I…” Morgana started, though seemed to be at a loss of words for a moment. Her fingers tightened their grasp on Morgause’s tunic. “I thought I was going to. You were too far.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I could have sworn that you were.”

Morgause didn’t say anything. She figured it better not to, as Morgana was in shock and she would probably end up second guessing what had happened to have it make more sense in her mind. Morgause did not have to pull her up very far using her magick, so what had happened probably wasn’t as obvious as it could have been should she have had a slower reaction.

After a few moments, the Ward had collected herself. However once Morgana realized where she was, she quickly pulled herself away from Morgause. She looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cling to you like some kind of child. It had just frightened me; I had thought for sure that I was going to fall.”

“It’s alright, I didn’t mind,” Morgause answered. It was the honest truth; Morgana had fit well in her arms, and she had enjoyed being the one allowed to comfort her. “Anyone would have been scared after a close call like that; it would have been unreasonable for me to expect any different from you.”

Morgana chewed her bottom lip, her gaze still connected to the ground. The distance seemed to make her wary. “Now I’m worried about how I’m going to get down,” she admitted softly, as though she felt her concerns were foolish.

“I’ll help you.”

Morgana looked up at her, the soft light of the moon illuminating her face and making her look innocent, angelic. Her green eyes shone with the intense power behind the trust she had for Morgause, and it took the blonde back for a moment. “I know,” she softly responded. 

The two sisters held their gaze for much longer than they probably should have, but Morgause could not seem to tear her eyes away. Something had changed in Morgana; though she still was bashful and somewhat nervous around her, her eyes now held a sense of purpose that Morgause found she could not ignore. Therefore it was probably good that it was Morgana who finally broke eye contact first, because Morgause would have probably sat there and stared at her for hours if she hadn’t.

It was so difficult to keep herself from asking what had changed, but she also knew that if Morgana wanted to share, she would. It wasn’t her place to pry; at least not yet.

“I’m turning sixteen in a few days,” Morgana mentioned, looking out at the vast lands that made up Camelot’s kingdom. Morgause however, chose to watch her instead. In her opinion, she was a much more beautiful sight.

“I know.”

Morgana side glanced her, a small smirk forming. “Do you, or are you just pretending to be mysteriously all-knowing so I will continue to be intrigued by you? I’m starting to wonder.”

Morgause raised her eyebrows slightly, a little caught off guard by Morgana’s bold assumption. Though her sister said the words with confidence, she still flushed. It seemed she was not used to being so straightforward either. Morgause liked it though; it felt like Morgana was starting to come out of her shell a little. More importantly, it felt like she was beginning to become more comfortable with her.

She returned the smirk with one of her own. “If I say I know, I know. I wouldn’t lie to you, Morgana.”

Morgana pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows at her response, but did not push the matter. Perhaps she believed Gwen had told her, which seemed plausible, even though it was not how Morgause knew it all. “Well,” she went on, “I was thinking… if, well if you’re not busy…” Morgana’s flustered nature was back and it made Morgause smile. “If you would perhaps like to come? To my party, that is.” She drummed her fingertips on the stone beneath her nervously as she awaited the response.

Morgause hesitated. Of course, if this was any other circumstance, she would accept without a second thought. But Morgause’s plan was to get Morgana out of Camelot before that date, even though it did not seem possible at this point in time. All Morgause could do at this point was hope that when her sister’s powers did emerge, they would trickle out of her instead of explode from her very being. But she had no way to tell and that made her nervous. 

“I don’t have anything to wear,” Morgause replied as a way to stall her answer for a moment, still unsure of what she wanted to do. Besides, it was true. She did not pack anything formal for this journey; she didn’t think she would need it.

“I’ll have something made for you.”

Morgause shot her an apprehensive look. “I don’t want to be your charity.” 

“You’re not!” Morgana insisted, though probably a bit too forcefully as she blushed once more at her own tone. “I just… well, I just mean that I would…” she sighed softly, though it seemed to be more at herself and how she was acting. She took a short moment to collect herself again before she told Morgause honestly, and even more strongly, “I would really love it if you were there, is all. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“You barely know me.”

“I know enough.” She paused, as if she wasn’t sure if she should say the next part. Softer, the words fell from Morgana’s mouth as she purposely avoided eye contact, “And I would like to know more, should you wish to give me the opportunity.”

Morgause chewed on the inside of her cheek. The thought of being inside of Uther’s castle, of possibly having to _speak_ to that wretched, murdering bastard of a man, turned her stomach into knots. But Morgana was insisting, and it was clearly something that would make her happy. Besides, the whole point of this journey was to get her sister to trust her enough to go back with her, where it was safe. How was she to do that if they did not get to know each other a little better? Morgause could not stay this guarded forever; at some point, she needed to take the risk and show Morgana who she really was. So after a moment’s consideration, Morgause consented, “Alright, I’ll come.”

Morgana’s smile lit up her entire face, and Morgause knew then that she had made the right decision, no matter who she would be forced to encounter that night. Such things paled in comparison.

**TBC…**


	6. Undesirable Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The update rate for this story has been increased to twice a week, as I found it ridiculous that I had 15 chapters written ahead of what I've posted. It will only be decreased again if I get within five or so.
> 
> Also, please note that the rating has now been changed to **explicit** , as there is graphic sexual content at a later point in the story.

**CHAPTER VI  
Undesirable Fate**

Morgana didn’t know where the courage inside of her had come from, but she found that she was proud of herself come the next day. Morgause still made her nervous and if truth were told, she was still unsure what it was she exactly wanted from the blonde. But because Morgana knew that she wanted – no, that she _needed_ – something from her, she was more than aware that it would never be achieved should she stand back and wait for it to happen. She wanted Morgause to be a part of her life, and so she would do everything in her power to make that a reality. It gave her the boost of confidence that Morgana found she desperately needed.

It frightened her a little though, if she were to be honest, how Morgause made her feel. Morgana had never once taken to anyone, so she was unsure of how it felt. That, coupled with how it would be received if the King ever found out, was the reason Morgana was hesitant to admit it may be something romantic. But she wasn’t thick; she knew she found Morgause attractive. But that could also be something that was obvious to anyone with eyes, and could very well mean nothing at all. Until she was sure, Morgana did not wish to voice anything out loud; that made it so much more real.

Regardless of whether it was romantic or not, Morgana knew it was undeniable that they had a bond of some kind. She knew so little of the world though, so she would never try to assume what that meant. Perhaps it just was what it was.

When Morgana went off to dinner, Gwen headed back to her house to measure Morgause for a dress. Morgana wished she could go with her, but Uther wanted to speak to her about her coming of age party. It was not a topic Morgana wanted to talk about with him, as he was probably going to care more about the suitors that would be coming to Camelot than of her actual _happiness,_ but as he was the King she was forced to oblige.

As expected, not even five minutes into their dinner Uther had mentioned, “Prince Lionel and his father, King Vortigen, will be arriving tomorrow. I expect this time that their stay will be _pleasant._ ” He looked more at Arthur when saying that, making it very clear who he believed the majority of the blame lied with. Arthur looked exasperated by the accusation.

“Father, as I’ve said many times, I did not purposely push him into that pile of manure! He _fell,_ ” he stressed the word, as though he actually thought it would make his father believe him. When Uther made up his mind however, there was no changing it. “If Lionel didn’t want to be humiliated, perhaps he shouldn’t have challenged me to a joust. I hardly think I should be held responsible for his own idiocy.”

Morgana quietly smirked into her plate, yet said nothing.

“Be that as it may, he is a potential suitor for Morgana and I do not want you humiliating him any further, is that clear?” Uther’s tone held a warning that Arthur would have been foolish to ignore. Still, the prince scoffed his displeasure. 

Meanwhile, Morgana’s face had soured at the word ‘suitor.’ Uther took notice.

“And I expect for you, especially, to keep the visiting prince happy, Morgana. He is the only suitor your own age to have expressed interest, so for your own sake I urge you to _keep_ him interested. Understood?”

Morgana’s mouth dropped open. The only one her own age? She shuddered to think of how old the others were. “Who _else_ has expressed interest?” she asked, probably a bit more forcefully than was acceptable. 

Uther, thankfully, had let her tone slide. “King Alined has recently found himself without a wife. He has no sons, so he is quite eager to find someone who can give him some.”

Morgana instinctively gagged at the thought. “But he’s _ancient!_ ” How could the king allow that? The possibility of having to sleep with him caused Morgana’s insides to twist violently. How was it fair that she would be forced into such a situation? If she were a man, no one would push an unwanted marriage on her; or any marriage, for that matter! Why was it that her gender condemned her to unhappiness? She hated it. 

“Wasn’t he the King who sentenced his last wife to death because she was barren?” Arthur asked, although the question came out as more of a demand. He was quickly becoming angry on Morgana’s behalf. “How could you sentence Morgana to such a fate? If she doesn’t please him, he’ll kill her!”

Morgana shot Arthur an appreciative look, glad that he was on her side. It seemed that nobody else was.

“Both of you, _please,_ ” Uther responded, growing frustrated over their behavior. He rubbed his temples, trying to lessen the headache this was causing. “I never said I wished that upon Morgana, nor that I condoned Alined’s laws. However he is an ally of Camelot and therefore I am required to accept his proposal should he ask. If I do not, it could bring a war down on us. We are not equipped to go up against his army; we are still trying to rebuild from the last one we had. We must think of the kingdom.”

Morgana put her head in her hands, covering her face as she tried to steady her breathing. Panic was overtaking her, despite her efforts to stay calm. She could not marry Alined; he was worse than Prince Lionel! The boy was a prat to be sure, but the king was a murderer. Morgana felt as though she were suffocating. 

“This is why I am stressing the importance of Prince Lionel,” Uther continued, his gaze shifting between the two of them. “He is by far the best match for Morgana.”

“So I’m to marry Lionel without even feeling for him?” Morgana asked, her voice strained as she forced herself not to cry from frustration. Her heart beating wildly within her chest, Morgana slid her hands down from her face, balling them into fists before they hit the table. _No!_ She couldn’t handle this anymore. “I don’t want to be his princess!” Morgana shouted, desperately trying to make Uther understand. “Why am I not allowed the privilege of at least _caring_ for the man who is to be my husband? Why must this be chosen for me? It isn’t _fair!”_

“Because that is the way of things, and I will not hear another word about it!” Uther bellowed. The angry look on his face caused Morgana to fall silent immediately. Despite herself, a tear slipped down her cheek. Ashamed at her reaction, Morgana quickly wiped it away. Uther took notice however, and it seemed to soften his heart a little. “Morgana, I know this is not an ideal arrangement for you,” he tried gently, “but you may grow to care for him in time.”

“Unlikely.” It was said underneath her breath, but still heard by the table. She could not look at them. She stared at her plate, finding she had lost her appetite as her heart swelled with sorrow. This was not the life she was meant to lead. She knew that just as she knew she needed air to breathe, but it seemed what was obvious to her went unnoticed by others. It broke her heart. 

An uncomfortable quietness followed. The silverware clinked and an awkward cough followed before Arthur finally broke the silence in the room. “Father, I wish to put my name in as a suitor for the Lady Morgana.”

Morgana’s head shot up, her dropped fork clattering against her plate as her eyes widened with shock. _“What?”_ she asked disbelievingly. However Arthur would not look at her; he was staring at his father, awaiting his response. He looked a little embarrassed, but held his composure. Morgana wondered for a half second if he had gone mad.

Uther looked exasperated by the request. “The two of you grew up together as though you were siblings; it would be inappropriate, Arthur.” 

“But she’s not actually my sister; the Kingdom knows that. Father, Morgana is respected and loved here; she should not be forced to leave Camelot.”

For how much Arthur could frustrate Morgana, she had never cared for him more than in this moment; he was trying to save her, despite the fact that it would force him into a marriage that may never know love either. They at least cared for one another though, which was a better prospect than any of Morgana’s other suitors. Her heart began to beat erratically in her chest, praying Uther would allow Arthur’s interest; it was her best case scenario. 

Unfortunately, Uther would not be swayed. “My answer is no, Arthur; do not push the matter. You are far too young to get married anyhow.”

“Yet I’m _not?!_ ” Morgana could not keep herself from shouting as she stood up quite abruptly. The situation was frustrating her to tears and she could not stand it any longer. She pointed at the boy across from her, yet addressed Uther. “Arthur is older than I am!”

“Arthur is to be King one day; his situation is different than yours. I will not allow him to marry until he has taken my place, and if I hear one more word about it I will marry you off to King Alined without even giving Prince Lionel a chance!” Uther threatened. He had always hated his decisions being questioned and had finally lost his patience with her. “Now _sit down,_ ” His order was fierce and Morgana fell back into her seat heavily, feeling as though the air had been sucked from her lungs.

Arthur’s expression was apologetic, but it didn’t make Morgana feel any better. She felt as though she had been sentenced to a lifetime of unhappiness and it choked the breath out of her. There had to be another way; Morgana knew she would not be able to survive it if there wasn’t, and that frightened her more than anything else.

[x]

When Gwen had left with her measurements, Morgause had settled in front of the fireplace with a smile on her face. Despite how she thought she would feel, Morgause was excited for her sister’s celebration. While it would have been better if Morgana was able to come back with her and have her birthday with her people, with those who truly _cared_ for and accepted her, Morgause was happy that she would at least be able to share this with her sister for the first time since Morgana was only one year old. She had missed out on so much of Morgana’s life and Morgause was just happy that she was provided with the opportunity to be a part of this special moment in her sister’s life. A girl only becomes a woman once, after all.

The thought of being near Uther Pendragon and being unable to avenge the suffering he had brought upon her people enraged her of course, but Llamrei had always told her to exercise patience, for fighting on pure emotion was a battle forever doomed for failure. Success required thought, planning, and control over one’s thirst for vengeance. It would not do for Morgause to try to assassinate the King of Camelot, although the thought was a tempting one.

Her main concern anyhow was what would happen to Morgana when her binding spell broke that day. Therefore, Morgause couldn’t believe she ever hesitated to come to her birthday celebration, as it would probably be best that if anything should happen she’d be around. If not just to explain to her what was going on, but also to cover it up if need be. She needed to keep Morgana safe, and keeping her sister’s magick a secret was the first step towards protecting her.

A frantic knock on the door interrupted her thoughts and Morgause rose from her spot on the floor to see who was calling at such a late hour.

When she opened the door she was greeted by the sight of her sister in tears. “Morgana!” she exclaimed, worry etching across her features as she instinctively reached for her, gently cradling her cheek in her hand in a gesture of comfort. “What’s happened?”

Morgana seemed surprised that it was Morgause who had answered the door, which made her face color in shame at being seen in such a state. She averted her eyes and pulled away from Morgause, wrapping her arms around herself. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I did not… I just, I had thought Gwen would answer. Is she here…?”

Morgause’s heart saddened that her sister was not yet in a place to confide her fears with her, but it was perhaps foolish to expect otherwise. “She brought my measurements to the seamstress, I’m sure she’ll be back soon.” Morgause pursed her lips, wishing she could do something for her. “Do you want to come inside and wait for her to return?”

“I…” Morgana started, looking past her sister and into the house of her friend. “I don’t wish to disturb anyone. It’s fine, I’ll just—”

“Tom is asleep,” Morgause interrupted, not wanting Morgana to think she would be disrupting anyone. “And I’m happy to look after you until Gwen arrives. Please, come inside.” She stepped to the side, allowing Morgana room to pass through the threshold, should she choose to. It broke her heart to see her sister so distressed and she hoped she would take the offer.

Morgana hesitated for a moment, but after a small sniffle and a look of defeat, she wrapped her cloak tighter around her shoulders and headed inside. Morgause closed the door behind her. Leaning against the oak frame, she took in her sister’s state. What could have upset her so much? Had someone done something to her? If they had, Morgause swore to the Gods that she would do anything in her power to see that _they_ were the one hurting at the end of it all. As unrealistic as it was, Morgause never wanted Morgana to know pain and it killed her inside to see that she did.

“Would you like anything?” Morgause offered, unsure of how to approach the situation without prying into a business that Morgana probably believed was none of her own. “Some water, perhaps?”

Morgana shook her head as she settled down in front of the fire, where Morgause had been not moments previously. “No, thank you.” Her voice was small and she would not look at her. Morgause chewed on the inside of her cheek and after a few seconds hesitation, crossed the room to join her. 

She did not say anything as she sat down, but felt as though she needed to do something to show Morgana that she was there for her. Morgause slipped her hand over her sister’s that was resting next to her, covering it protectively. It was a small gesture, but the bond between them strengthened the moment their skin touched. A warmth Morgause had never known filled her and she curled her fingers around her sister’s hand, holding it tightly, hoping that Morgana could feel it too. 

She could.

The Ward shuddered slightly at the touch. Morgana’s gaze was locked on to the fire and as the feeling overwhelmed her, more tears began to fall from her eyes. Her breath caught in her throat and she nearly choked as she began to cry harder. She couldn’t stop it. Morgause, the sound of her sister’s sorrow tearing the heart from her chest, did not hesitate. She drew Morgana into her bosom, wrapping her arms around her in a gesture meant to shield her from the world. Morgana clutched at her tunic, burying her face into her neck as though she wished she could do nothing more than fall into her and away from reality. Morgause wished she could let her.

“It’ll be alright,” Morgause whispered. She didn’t know what was wrong, but she was certain that it would be. She would _make_ it be alright, should she need to. She stroked Morgana’s hair, holding her so close she could feel her sister’s unsteady breathing on her neck. “I promise you, Morgana; whatever it is, it’ll be alright…” 

Morgana shook her head violently, hiccupping slightly from the force of her tears. She tried to sit up to speak, but could do little more than choke on her sorrow. Morgause cupped her face in her hands, gently wiping her fallen tears away with her thumbs. “Shh,” she hushed softly, “You don’t need to explain right now.”

Morgana looked up at her, her wet lashes darkening the outline of her radiant green eyes. Even through her misery, she looked so beautiful that Morgause’s breath momentarily left her. Another tear had fallen and Morgause wiped it from Morgana’s flushed skin, unable to take her eyes off of her sister. She wanted to tear the world apart to find the source of her pain, but she found she couldn’t move. Morgana searched her eyes for a moment before her face slowly, purposely moved closer to hers, causing Morgause’s heart to jump to her throat. She was frozen, torn between what she so desperately found she wanted in that moment, and what was right and fair to her sister. 

It wasn’t this.

But Morgana had stopped herself, just a mere breath away from Morgause’s lips. Her forehead rested against hers and she closed her eyes, her demeanor noticeably deflating from her own lack of courage. Morgause let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, trying to force herself to not be disappointed. 

This was not meant to happen; she had never meant to feel this way. Morgause didn’t even know when it really started, but the realization just then that she felt more for her sister than she should seemed to consume her. She had truly believed, up until now, that Morgana’s crush was one-sided. Yes, she had noticed her own flirtatious demeanor when she was around her, but had thought it was just a game; a way to keep Morgana interested in the façade of mystery that she surrounded herself with, so that when the time came to tell her who she really was, Morgana would find herself more receptive to it since she had desperately wanted to know. Perhaps it was foolish of Morgause, to go about things this way, but there was nothing she could do about it now. She had made her bed, and it was unnerving to realize that she wished Morgana would lie in it with her.

Finally, Morgana spoke. Her voice was soft, broken. She did not open her eyes, perhaps in fear of what she would see in her sister’s gaze. “Has anyone ever tried to force a life on you that you did not want…?”

Morgause pursed her lips. She should have known this was what it would be about; turning sixteen made Morgana eligible for marriage. Morgause should’ve been prepared for what Uther would force on her sister; a union of that magnitude would bring about an unwavering peace treaty between Camelot and one of their neighboring kingdoms. Morgana was a Lady of the Court; it would be expected of her to do so without question, for the good of Camelot. Morgause could understand, whole heartedly, why she was upset about it. That was not her destiny. She knew it, and she believed her sister knew it as well.

“Our fate is what we make it, Morgana,” she responded softly, pulling away from her sister a bit so she could look her in the eye. Morgause gave her a small, supportive smile as she brushed the hair from Morgana’s face. “Not what other’s believe they can force upon you. _You_ control your own life, not the King.”

Morgana wiped the last of her tears from her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. “You know?” she questioned, although she did not sound surprised.

“I guessed.”

Morgana turned her head to look into the fire. The flames danced and crackled, illuminating Morgana’s face in an orange hue that caused her eyes to look dangerously inviting. Morgause had to tear her gaze away from her, so she chose to stare into the fire as well. It was not as distracting as she believed it would be.

“You don’t have to marry him.”

“Which one?”

“Any of them.”

Morgana looked at her, eyes furrowed as she tried to figure Morgause out. “Is that why you’re here?” she asked her, after a long moment’s silence. Confusion masked the blonde’s face, so Morgana continued, “You’re not a commoner. Although you dress like one, the way you hold yourself gives you away. The way you speak, the way you can hold a sword, even your posture suggests you are not what you lead us to believe.” 

Morgana paused for a moment as she chewed on her bottom lip, deep in thought as she began to draw a clearer conclusion. Her voice became stronger as her belief in her own theory grew. “You let slip once that you might be a Lady of the Court,” she said, referencing the first time they spoke, “Whoever’s Court that may be. And any Lady is required to be married off for the good of the Kingdom, so I cannot help but wonder if that is why you came here; to avoid that fate.”

Morgause shook her head. “That is not why I came to Camelot.” She let out a slow breath as she leaned back on her hands, turning her gaze once more into the pit of fire before them. She wondered if she should confirm Morgana’s other belief, and quickly came to conclusion that perhaps it would be better if her sister knew. “But you were right about my status,” Morgause admitted, “I am not a commoner.”

“A Lady then?” 

“Yes and no.” Morgana’s eyebrows furrowed at the non-committal answer to her question, so Morgause explained, “Yes, my birth status makes me a Lady, and although some people address me as such, it is not the title I identify with.”

Morgana leaned towards her, interest peaked. She could not tear her eyes off of her, as though she would miss some pivotal moment in history should she look away. Morgause could see her out of her peripheral, though tried to keep her body language calm. She knew what question was coming next. “What title do you identify with then?” Morgana asked, the intense curiosity in her voice hard to miss.

There was a long pause. Morgause knew once she said these words, there was no taking them back. But she swallowed her fears and answered, “I am a High Priestess of the Old Religion.”

Morgana froze. Her eyes widened, her lips parted in shock, and she could do nothing else but stare at her in surprise. No one sane would ever admit to that in a place such as Camelot, yet Morgause felt she needed to tell her now so should Morgana need to, she would have someone to come to once her binding spell broke. That is, if she didn’t turn Morgause over to Uther first and have her hanged. 

The silence in the air threatened to deafen them both. It was by far the longest and hardest moment in Morgause’s life.

“Have you told anyone else this?” Morgana replied, finally breaking the tension in the air. She seemed worried that Morgause had. In fact, it looked as if the thought positively terrified her. 

“No, just you.”

“Good!” The force of the exclamation seemed to surprise even Morgana herself, yet she still grasped Morgause’s forearm with urgency. She was frightened on her behalf. “Do not speak of it to anyone; here, you will be killed for it. Promise me—!”

“Morgana, I know where I am,” Morgause told her, keeping her voice calm to try to instill it in her sister. She covered the hand on her arm with hers, squeezing it gently. “I am not foolish enough to voice it out loud to just anyone.”

Morgana looked at her, her eyes swimming with question. She looked so overwhelmed. “But you told me,” she whispered, as if she only now realized the magnitude of that. 

“I trust you.”

It was such a simple answer, yet one said with so much truth. Morgause looked at her sister and knew she could feel the honesty in it. Morgana did not have to confirm that it was a trust given wisely; Morgause saw in her eyes that her sister would not breathe a word of it. She was scared for her, scared of the things that may happen to her should anyone else find out. It was then that Morgause was sure she had made the right decision. 

“It’s dangerous for you here,” Morgana told her, her grip on the blonde tightening. Despite Morgause’s efforts to calm her, Morgana still seemed desperate to keep her safe. “You should move on; go to another city where magick isn’t condemned. Please. I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you…!”

“Shh, love,” Morgause hushed, cupping Morgana’s cheek gently in her hand once more. Although she should have, she did not dwell on her choice of address. Instead she softly smiled at her. “I can take care of myself. Please, do not be frightened on my behalf.” She tucked a piece of stray hair behind her sister’s ear and continued, “Besides, I do not plan to stay here long. Once I’ve gotten what I came for, I will leave this place behind.” 

Morgana seemed to dishearten at those words. Morgause could understand, since her sister had not yet realized it was her who she had come for. But before Morgana could ask what it was that brought her here, the front door opened.

Both women pulled away from each other as though they had been burned. When they turned towards the door, Gwen’s eyebrows were raised almost to her hairline. Morgause kept her composure, but Morgana blushed furiously and looked away.

“I’m sorry,” Gwen apologized, although she did not sound very sorry at all. In fact, she was smirking. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No, we—” Morgause started, but Morgana broke her train of thought as she quickly stood.

“I was just leaving,” she told Gwen, even though it was clear that she _had_ interrupted something by the rosy hue that colored her all the way to the tips of her ears. She had her head down so that her hair would cover some of it, but it still did her no good. “Goodnight,” she said in parting, before practically running past Guinevere and out the door.

Gwen stared out at Morgana’s retreating form for a moment before slowly turning to Morgause, one eyebrow raised in question. Morgause made every effort not to look embarrassed. “It’s late,” she said, when it was clear that Gwen was waiting for her to explain. But it was not her place, she was Morgana’s friend. Morgause was merely her houseguest, although she did find that she cared for the girl. “Perhaps we should all retire for the night.”

“If that’s what you wish,” Gwen responded, although her tone was much too knowing for Morgause to ignore. Morgana had to have shared some things with her already, if the look on the handmaiden’s face was any indication. But Morgause was already feeling rather foolish for allowing herself to have a sexual attraction to her sister, so she was not up for discussing it. She wasn’t even sure what she should _do_ with it, let alone how she would speak of it.

So after they had bid each other goodnight, Morgause lay down on her cot and tried to think of a way she could rid herself of these feelings. But even as she tried to convince herself that she could merely push them aside, Morgause couldn’t help but think of the way her sister’s breath felt against her lips, the way she fit so perfectly in her arms. The more she thought about it, the more wanton she became; it was like a sickness. It burned her from the inside out, igniting a passion within her that Morgause never believed she would have for another.

Her hand moving of its own accord, Morgause began to touch herself. She had thought perhaps if she could just get it out of her system, then she would no longer have the urge to act upon her feelings.

She couldn’t have been more wrong.

**TBC…**


	7. The Suitors

**CHAPTER VII  
The Suitors**

_A High Priestess._ It was an impressive title, so much more than just some mere sorcerer. Morgana knew that and despite what she should feel, it impressed her. Amongst her people, Morgause would be akin to royalty. She must be very powerful; that would make her a dangerous enemy, should anyone be foolish enough to cross her. But Morgana could not find it in her fear Morgause; no matter what the King preached about sorcery and the destruction it could cause. Morgause had never done anything to hurt her, or even Camelot in general, although she must have more than enough reason to when it came to the latter.

She was not evil; Morgana could feel it when they touched. Something bad could never feel so warm, so inviting, so utterly and completely captivating. Yes, there were probably sorcerers out there that did dark magick, who plotted to destroy Camelot and everything and everyone inside of it. But Morgause was not one of them. Morgana knew that if anyone here heard her reasoning, they would probably think her naïve. And perhaps she sounded that way, but she knew she wasn’t. Morgause was different; she felt it in her heart.

It did make her wonder however, if there was a way Morgause could help her. Perhaps she could do some spell; make Uther change his mind about marrying her off. That was a dangerous request though. If Morgause was caught, she would be hanged for treason. Morgana did not want her selfishness to condemn the woman she felt so much for, and so she knew she could not ask. Still, she wondered. She couldn’t help it. Morgause said there was a way out and Morgana wished she knew what that was, because right now she felt she would take it in an instant.

Her suitors had come to Camelot. Not just Prince Lionel and King Alined, but another last minute suitor from France; King Edmond, a younger, yet devastatingly unhandsome king who seemed to speak very little English. As Morgana spoke only a minimal amount of French herself, it made conversing with him quite difficult. 

Not that it mattered, however. Prince Lionel had taken to following her around like some kind of lost foal, so he did not leave the other suitors much chance to corner her before the celebration. Although he was an attractive boy, his pompous demeanor left much to be desired. He had spent all day regaling Morgana with tales of all his “conquests,” many of which the Ward believed to have been greatly exaggerated, if not made up entirely.

“…The barbarian was twitching beneath me as the blood spilled from his chest, covering my sword with the last of his life,” Lionel continued, his tone dramatic as though he was telling a story of a mythical hero. Perhaps he was, because Morgana had a hard time believing the rail of a boy could take on a barbarian that was ‘as large as a black bear.’ “My knights cheered for me so loudly that the heavens themselves heard their celebration. They opened up, weeping their joy for my glorious victory in the aftermath of his death.” 

“Fascinating,” Morgana responded dryly, looking everywhere but at him as she tried to assess her exits. Her eyes landed on the knights training in the courtyard and she smirked to herself. Turning towards Lionel, she suggested, “Perhaps you could demonstrate the technique you used to defeat such a formidable opponent for our knights? It seemed rather impressive, and I think our noble army could learn something from your experience.” It took everything in her power to not sound sarcastic. Morgana forced herself to smile sweetly at him, which seemed to make Lionel puff up with pride.

“Of course,” he accepted, looking as though his head would burst from how much it had swelled with self-importance. “I would never turn down an opportunity to pass on my skills. It might very well save some of your knights’ lives later on; save your kingdom, even.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Morgana lied sweetly, rising from her seat. This would prove to be amusing, she was sure of it. Bringing the young Prince over to the courtyard seemed to draw some attention and the knights stopped their training. Arthur approached them.

“Morgana,” he addressed flatly, a look in his eyes like he knew exactly what she was doing over there.

“Prince Lionel has been regaling me with tales of his victories,” Morgana told him, much too sweetly for Arthur not to see right through. “I had thought it would be pertinent if your knights could learn a thing or two from him while he’s here. He is a _very_ skilled swordsman, after all.”

Lionel’s smile of pride was positively sickening, but Morgana returned it before turning back towards Arthur. She tried to look innocent. It did not work.

“Could I speak with you for a moment?” Arthur requested, even though he did not give Morgana a chance to refuse. He took her by the arm, leading her far enough away from Lionel so they couldn’t be overheard. “You know what my father said,” he told her once they were out of earshot, although the look on his face indicated that he wished Uther had never said anything at all. Arthur hated giving up the chance to best someone.

“I know,” Morgana replied, an apology in her tone. She knew she wasn’t being fair, but she was desperate for some time away from the Prince. “But he’s driving me mad, Arthur. You don’t understand what it’s like to be followed around by someone like him! I just need some space to breathe, _please._ ”

Arthur looked apologetic. “You know I can’t.”

“ _You_ can’t, no,” she affirmed. But Morgana had already thought of a solution to that problem and a twinkle of mischief came to her eyes. “But your father never said anything about your knights.”

Arthur paused, thinking this over. He didn’t have to ponder it very long though and after a moment, a smirk crept across his face. “You know, I believe you’re right.” 

Morgana beamed.

As Arthur returned to Lionel to inform him that he would allow his “demonstration,” Morgana stood off to the side to watch. While the plan was to get as far away from the prince once she had the chance, she also didn’t want to miss him getting his arse handed to him; she deserved at least _one_ entertaining thing to witness in this disaster of a day, after all. Besides, Lionel would notice if she left right away; better to slip away once he was more distracted. Or, you know, afterwards, when he was injured and in Gaius’ care. That was bound to happen at the end of this little demonstration anyhow. 

As she sat down in the grass, Morgana could see some of the knights trying not to laugh at Lionel’s description of what he was about to show them, complete with dramatic hand gestures and amusing sound effects. Oh yes, this would definitely put on a good show.

“My Lady?”

Morgana turned her head, shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand. “Gwen!” she greeted cheerfully, now that she finally had something to be happy about. She gestured for her to take a place next to her. “Sit with me; you’re not going to want to miss this. Prince Lionel is about to _demonstrate_ something to our knights.”

Gwen chuckled as she took a seat next to Morgana on the grass. “Oh, dear…” She shook her head, knowing this was all her mistress’s doing. “You do know the King will be furious, don’t you?” 

Morgana shrugged, uncaring as she turned back towards the scene in front of her. Arthur had just tossed him a sword so he could demonstrate and Lionel failed to catch it. The knights laughed heartedly at his expense and the young prince’s ears had turned pink. “He said Arthur couldn’t do it; it’s hardly our fault he didn’t specify the knights’ involvement,” she replied with an air of innocence.

Gwen quirked an eyebrow at her, though looked amused despite the need to caution her. Deciding not to push the matter, she changed the subject. “The seamstress finished with Morgause’s dress.”

Morgana’s head turned away from Lionel’s desperate need to prove himself and towards her maidservant. The motion was so quick it made her a little dizzy. “What does it look like?” she asked, as though this was some deep matter of emergency. But it was Gwen, so she didn’t really care how ridiculous she might sound. “Has she tried it on? How does it fit? Does she like it?”

Gwen laughed at her eagerness. “Be careful, my Lady,” she teased quietly, “With an interest like that, you might realize you’re actually quite taken with her, despite what you’ve been trying to convince yourself.” Although her cheeks turned a bit pink, Morgana still rolled her eyes to try to downplay it.

“I’m not trying to convince myself of anything anymore,” she admitted, albeit a little defensively. Morgana hated feeling foolish, yet the admission of being wrong was doing that job rather well. “I know how I feel. After I nearly…” she stopped herself, unable to say the words out loud. Even quietly, someone might overhear them. “Well, I would have to be rather thick to continue living in denial after that.”

Morgana hadn’t really expected to want to kiss her; she had convinced herself there must’ve been another reason she felt so much for Morgause, but perhaps she was naïve to ever believe it could be anything but the obvious. The knowledge that she was different than most scared her, but Morgana didn’t wish to deny it any longer; it was what it was and it would do her no good if she did not learn to accept it. She couldn’t help who she felt for, just as much as she couldn’t help which way the wind blew. 

But knowing what she wanted and being able to go through with it were two _very_ different things.

“After you nearly…” Gwen prodded, yet quickly realized that Morgana didn’t finish her sentence because she was afraid to speak it aloud. So instead the handmaiden mouthed silently behind her hand, _‘Kissed?_ ’ She probably didn’t need Morgana’s confirmation, as she flushed head to toe at her guess, yet the Ward nodded her answer anyhow. Gwen’s eyes went wide, looking positively excited on Morgana’s behalf.

But then her face fell. “Oh no,” she groaned, sounding apologetic as she realized why it may not have happened. “I didn’t interrupt it, did I? I was just teasing you when I said that; I didn’t really think that I was—!”

“No, no it wasn’t you,” Morgana insisted, shaking her head. She sighed softly as she leaned back on her hands, looking back out at the knights’ training grounds. Lionel was dueling with Sir Leon and looked as though he were seconds away from losing a limb for it. “I don’t know, I guess I just lost my nerve,” she admitted, feeling disappointed with herself. 

She had wanted so badly to feel Morgause’s lips against hers, to fall away from reality and into the comfort of her embrace. Morgana was certain she had never wanted anything more in her entire life. But she was afraid; afraid that Morgause might not feel the same way, afraid that even if she did, someone would find out and tell the King. Morgana had believed stopping herself was the right thing to do, but now her heart weighed heavy with regret.

The knights’ training area erupted in a loud cheer and Morgana’s attention was diverted. Covering her mouth, she stifled a laugh at the scene before her. Lionel was lying on the ground seemingly knocked unconscious by Sir Leon, who was looking particularly pleased with himself. “Fetch Gaius,” Morgana requested to Gwen, “It seems our visiting prince is going to need his attention.”

Despite how horrible it may be to laugh at Lionel’s expense, Morgana couldn’t help but take joy in it. She was finally allotted the freedom to wander off for a few hours, and she knew exactly who it was that she wanted to see.

[x]

“Ride with me,” she had said, and Morgause did not hesitate for a moment.

Morgana had allowed her to take the lead. With the Ward’s arms tightly wrapped around her, the wind in their hair and the sun on their backs, they rode out of Camelot and into the surrounding forest. Morgana hadn’t even told her why she needed to get out of there so badly yet Morgause obliged without question, the urge to please her sister so intense that it warranted neither explanation nor thought. 

They came across a lake with water as dark as night, despite the blazing sun overhead. Morgana looked out at it in awe, noting its unconventional beauty. Morgause agreed, although she wasn’t paying much attention to the scenery. Morgana was holding on to her in such a way that did not leave much room for interpretation; her fingers were toying with the hem of Morgause’s tunic, her head resting softly against a bed of blonde hair as she looked out at the forest. Morgana’s light breath was tickling the back of her neck, nearly driving Morgause to madness. 

Pleasuring herself that night was supposed to sate her desire, yet it only managed to intensify it. Everything Morgana did now seemed to tease her, so it took an incredible amount of effort for Morgause to keep her tone normal when she suggested, “Perhaps we should stop here, rest for awhile?”

Morgana smiled as she leaned a little further into her sister’s back. “I would like that.” Her tone was low, quite possibly because she felt like she didn’t want to disturb the peaceful nature of the lake, but to Morgause it sounded as though she were trying to entice her. To distract herself from doing anything foolish, Morgause quickly dismounted the horse.

She really needed to get a grip on reality, for both of their sakes.

Extending her hand, she helped Morgana off the steed. The brunette slid off easily, landing gracefully on her feet. She smiled her thanks to Morgause for the help, yet did not let go of her hand. Instead, her fingers wove between Morgause’s, holding it even tighter. She flushed a little at her own boldness, but lightly tugged on her hand to lead her over to the lake. “Come on,” Morgana requested. Morgause could do nothing but follow her lead.

They sat in the grass just a few paces in front of the lake. It was a clear day and the light breeze from the north made the afternoon’s heat more bearable. “I had to get out of there,” Morgana finally explained, letting go of Morgause’s hand to smooth out the wrinkles in her dress. She looked a little self-conscious, as though she felt running away from her problems was shameful. “My suitors are in Camelot and Prince Lionel was barely giving me room to breathe.”

“What about the others?” Morgause asked, wondering why there was only one who was fighting for her eye. If she were a suitor, she would constantly be vying for the young Ward’s attention. Morgana was the most beautiful woman that Morgause had ever seen; in a world shrouded in darkness, she was pure radiance. Anyone should feel privileged to court her.

Morgana shrugged. “I don’t think they care to get to know me. I’d be a trophy, nothing more.” She pursed her lips for a moment before glancing over at the blonde. “I know I should probably be thankful that Lionel is trying so hard to win me over, but the thought of marrying him turns my stomach. He’s a pompous arse, honestly. I can’t bear the thought of dealing with that the rest of my life.”

“You don’t have to.”

Morgana chewed on the inside of her cheek, obviously not very convinced by Morgause’s words. The sorceress understood that it might seem like a radical idea to her sister, leaving everything she had ever known behind to find freedom, but Morgause wanted her to know she had the option. She rested her hand on Morgana’s leg, trying to comfort her with the gesture. Morgana looked at it for a long moment before covering it with her own. The warmth that spread over Morgause from her sister’s touch made her heart skip a beat.

“I’m not like you,” Morgana told her softly, staring at their linked hands. “I’m not powerful enough to change my own destiny.”

“Yes, _you are._ ”

Morgause’s words were said with such strength and conviction that Morgana looked up at her, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “How?” she asked. “I don’t have magick.”

Morgause smiled patiently at her. “You don’t need it. “ Her sister was still so young; of course she saw Morgause as more powerful because she had magick. But even if Morgana’s binding spell wasn’t about to break tomorrow, she would still be powerful enough to change her own destiny. She was strong, independent; she was a Le Fay. “You only need the courage and determination to do what’s best for you. If you don’t want to be a slave to your title, Morgana, _don’t be._ It truly is as simple as that.”

Morgana fell silent for a moment, thinking about what she had said. Morgause did not expect her sister to come to a conclusion about what it was that she wanted right then though, so she was unsurprised when Morgana changed the subject. “Why is it like that?” she asked, gazing out at the picturesque scene before her. “The lake. It’s as black as night.”

Morgause’s eyebrows rose. “You don’t know what it is?” Morgana shook her head. Morgause was surprised; she would have thought the King would have cautioned her about coming here, as it was a place of magick. She probably should have known that he did not however, since Morgana suggested they stop there. “That’s the Pool of Nemhain, one of the five gateways to the spirit world.”

Morgana’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Morgause nodded, leaning back on her hands to look out at the blackness of the water. “It is said that if you cast a coin into the lake, you can raise the dead.” She watched her sister from her peripheral, who seemed to sit up even straighter at those words.

“Uther had always cautioned us from traveling too far west, but I assumed it was because of the Druids that still reside in our forests,” Morgana replied, looking out at the lake in awe. Morgause smiled, pleased that magick seemed to fascinate her sister; it would make things easier when her powers emerged. Despite the uncertainty that surrounded that event, Morgause was excited for her sister to learn who she was. She just hoped Morgana would be able to without anyone else in Camelot taking notice. 

“The Druid’s camp lies farther west than this,” Morgause told her, nodding in the direction of them. She had passed through there on her way to Camelot, and out of the kindness of their hearts they had provided her with food and shelter for a few nights. “But I doubt your patrol could ever find them, should they try. Druids know how to easily conceal themselves from anyone who does not have magick.”

Morgana chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, still looking out at the lake. Morgause didn’t know if her sister had even heard her; she looked lost in thought. Finally she questioned, “Could you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Raise the dead.”

Morgause’s face masked in sympathy as she realized why Morgana was asking. “I could,” she confirmed. She paused momentarily before finishing regretfully, “But I won’t.” Morgana’s face fell as she turned to her, confusion and hurt in her eyes. She had probably assumed that Morgause would do her this favor, but she had no idea what she was really asking for. 

“Why not?”

“Because what would come out of there would not be your mother,” Morgause told her softly, feeling remorseful as she gently tucked a piece of hair behind her sister’s ear. Vivienne was her mother too and it pained Morgause’s heart that she could not bring her back. “She would be a Shade, merely a puppet to the one who resurrected her. You would be condemning her to an eternity of slavery and unrest should you bring her back. I know you don’t want that for her.”

Morgana looked sorrowful, but nodded in agreement as she stared at her hands. It must have been hard, to have such hope for a moment, only to have it come crashing down in an instant. “I just miss her,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. After a moment Morgana shook her head, looking as though she felt foolish for asking Morgause to do that for her. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be,” Morgause hushed, pulling her sister towards her to wrap her in a comforting embrace. She hated seeing Morgana so sad, it tore her up inside. The Ward buried her face in her neck, allowing Morgause to stroke her hair. They fit so well together that Morgause hated that she ever had to let her go. “You didn’t know what you were asking. I don’t blame you for wanting to bring your mother back; any child would want that.”

Morgana nodded, the movements making it feel as though she was nuzzling into her. Morgause inhaled an unsteady breath, trying to keep herself focused. She was doing this to comfort her sister, nothing more. She had to remember that. Still, she allowed her hand to run down the length of Morgana’s back, not wanting to let her go just yet. Morgana shuddered beneath her touch and Morgause’s breath shallowed at the feeling of her sister’s vulnerability.

“You said that you were leaving,” Morgana mentioned. Her soft breath tickled Morgause’s neck, eliciting goose pimples all the way down her spine. “When…?” She sounded so terribly upset over the possibility and it broke Morgause’s heart. She wished she could tell her that she wasn’t going to leave without her, but it was too soon. 

“I don’t know.” Morgause’s voice was no more than a breathy whisper, as if she was afraid of disturbing this moment with sound. She wrapped her arms tighter around her sister, feeling the warmth from Morgana’s body ignite a fire within her veins. “Soon, I hope.”

Morgana closed her eyes, burying her head even father into the crook of Morgause’s neck, as though she were trying to block out reality. She stayed there for a while until finally exhaling a heavy breath, raising her head to look up at her sister. Her eyes searched Morgause’s and the sorceress could almost see Morgana trying to gather up her courage to say what she felt she needed to express. Morgause stayed silent, waiting patiently for her sister’s words as she continued to lightly run her fingers over the back of Morgana’s hand.

“What if I asked you not to go?”

Despite the need to suppress her feelings, Morgause’s heart swelled at her sister’s words. She reached out, overwhelmed by the feeling, gently cupping Morgana’s cheek. There was something so utterly perfect about her. “I would ask why,” she responded softly, although she was sure she already knew the answer. Part of her needed to hear it though, needed to know if what she believed was true. Her thumb dusted across Morgana’s jaw line, unable to tear herself away from the beauty in front of her. It was as though time had stopped around them.

“You know why.”

Morgana’s answer was barely audible, fear suppressing its volume. Morgause didn’t know what to do. She knew what she wanted to do, but what she wanted and what was best for them were two different things. The seconds stretched onwards and Morgause knew that Morgana needed an answer. As she was unsure of her words, she cupped the back of her sister’s neck and brought her closer to her, gently kissing the top of her forehead.

“I will always be there for you, should you need me,” she breathed, the right words finally coming to her. Morgana closed her eyes, feeling the honesty in the blonde’s promise.

It was the best Morgause could offer her at the moment. 

Morgana was her sister, her blood; of course she would be there for her. She was her only living family, the closest person to her heart and Morgause knew that being by her side would be the only place she could ever call home. She wouldn’t leave Camelot without Morgana, not for anything. Morgause wished she could just tell Morgana who she really was, but the words seemed to stick in her throat; she feared Morgana would be angry with her for leading her on, should she know the truth.

Because of this, Morgause decided it would probably be better to not reveal who she was until after Morgana was out of Camelot. Her sister’s safety was her first priority and when her powers emerged, the safest place would be with her own kind, on the Isle of the Blessed, far from Uther Pendragon’s reach.

She just hoped that, when the time came, Morgana would come with her.

**TBC…**


	8. The Disturbing Dream

**CHAPTER VIII  
The Disturbing Dream**

_Screaming. There was so much screaming. Was it coming from her? Fear was gripping Morgana’s chest as she tried to reach out towards Morgause, but she was too far away. “Run!” Morgana yelled, “They’re coming!_ Run!”

_Despite Morgana’s pleading, the blonde kept rooted to the spot, determination in her eyes as she stared straight into Morgana’s soul. The world around them seemed to blur, but the sounds of death grew nearer. They frightened Morgana to her very core. She tried to scream out to Morgause again, but found she was being pulled backwards. It felt as though she was being torn from the other half of her heart and the most intense pain she had ever known burned through her veins, threatening to devour her whole._

_“My Lady?”_

_Morgause was fading into the distance and she knew she had to do something. “Gwen, help her!” she begged as her throat constricted. Was she suffocating? She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think. She heard her, she heard her friend somewhere, but she couldn’t see her. Morgana screamed as Morgause faded into nothing. “Please!_ Please! _Morgause…!”_

_Something was burning. The light from the flames danced across her features, illuminating her pain for all the world to see. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. “Morgause!” she screamed once more, the heat from the fire becoming overwhelming. She choked on her tears, feeling as though she were falling._

_“My Lady!”_

_Who was touching her?! Morgana needed to get them off; they would take her, just as they took Morgause. No, no she wouldn’t let them! She would live, she had to live; she had to save her!_

“Morgana!”

The Ward was shaken so hard that it tore her from her dreams. Morgana sat up straight, a scream falling from her lips as she tried to fight off the hands that held her. “Bring her back!” she screamed at her unknown assailant, feeling the tears beginning to fall from her eyes. “She’s innocent! She’s _mine!_ ” She could barely breathe and her voice came out as a strained whisper.

“Morgana, it’s me! You were dreaming; its okay, you were just dreaming!” Gwen tried, looking distressed over her mistress’s state as she tried to keep her from thrashing. “ _Breathe!_ It’s alright!”

Reality began to flood back to Morgana and it startled her so badly that she stopped moving completely, eyes widening as she looked around the room in fear. She was slick with sweat, her heart beating erratically in her chest. Dreaming? It felt too real to be a dream. She could still feel the hands on her, pulling her away from Morgause. Or had that always been Gwen? 

She had to know.

Fearful that she had just left Morgause alone to die, Morgana practically flew out of bed. She stumbled, not quite awake yet. “Where is she?” she demanded. “Did they take her?!” Morgana got to the window in record time, looking out at the courtyard to see if reality was what she believed it to be.

“Morgause…?” Gwen questioned, trying to guess what had scared her friend so. “She’s at my house, working on something with my father.” Morgana didn’t reply. She was looking out at the courtyard as her eyes darted every which way, looking like a trapped animal. Gwen moved to her side, trying to comfort her. “Morgause is safe, my Lady; it was just a bad dream. Do you understand what I’m saying?” she questioned, worried that she wasn’t getting an answer. She tentatively reached out to touch her arm, trying not to startle her. “It was just a dream, Morgana…”

Morgana was shaking from head to toe. Gwen covered her hand with her own protectively and Morgana looked down, reality becoming clearer as more time passed. A dream; it was just a dream. Oh God, it felt so real though. She was certain it had been and she had never, in her whole life, been so fearful that her nightmares were truth before. Was lucid dreaming a part of growing older, because if so Morgana wanted nothing to do with it.

“It was a dream,” she repeated, trying to make Gwen’s insistence sound true. Even still, it sounded like she was lying to herself. But it couldn’t be true, could it? Gwen told her Morgause was safe. _She was safe._

“Yeah,” Gwen affirmed, furrowing her eyebrows as she looked at her sympathetically. “You’re shaking. Come on, maybe you should sit down for a moment.” She tugged on her hand, encouraging Morgana to come back to bed. She obliged without question, still feeling rather dazed.

Morgana sat heavily, her head feeling foggy. She brushed her hair back from her face and found she was covered with sweat. She felt awful. “What time is it?” she asked after a moment, noting how bright it was outside. How long had she been sleeping?

“Early afternoon,” Gwen responded. She rubbed her friend’s back soothingly, trying to calm her. “I was worried when I didn’t see you all morning; you usually don’t sleep this late.” She put her hand to Morgana’s forehead, feeling her temperature. “Are you getting sick?”

“I hope not.”

Gwen felt her head for a few more moments, then let her hand fall back to her lap. “You don’t feel warm,” she noted, although still looked concerned. “Are you sure you’re up for the celebration tonight?”

Her birthday; Morgana had almost forgotten that she turned sixteen today. What a way to start off the day, wasn’t it? She felt positively ill.

“I have to be,” she told her, trying to pull herself together. Now that she had a firmer grip on reality, she didn’t feel as dizzy. “Everyone’s here; Uther won’t put it off just because I’m feeling a little under the weather.” Her handmaiden continued to look worried though, so Morgana forced a smile. “I’ll be _fine,_ Gwen. I promise.”

Gwen looked unconvinced, but relented. “Alright.” She smiled encouragingly at her. “Well, let’s get you washed up, shall we? Perhaps you’ll feel better after a long, hot bath.” Morgana nodded; that sounded like heaven right now. After having horrible dreams and incessant night sweats, she felt thoroughly dirty. 

Morgana prayed the water would help wash the nightmare from her mind as well, but she knew that was a foolish thing to hope for. Something that frightening would probably be with her for a long, long time and despite wishing she could forget about it, a part of Morgana was screaming at her to remember every single detail and she wished she knew why.

[x]

It had been quite some time since Morgause had worn a dress and she almost didn’t recognize herself. She had always favored practicality over appearance, but as she looked at her reflection in the mirror, Morgause decided that she should probably wear garments like this more often. She had never really given much thought to her own attractiveness, but right then she thought she looked beautiful and the feeling made her smile.

The silken material hung to every curve, the deep red complimenting her ivory skin tone. Gwen had chosen the color for her and Morgause had to admit that she was pleased. Especially once Morgana caught sight of her a few moments later; the reaction her sister had was more than enough confirmation for the young sorceress that she was indeed as beautiful as she felt. 

Mostly because it seemed like Morgana’s brain had lost all function.

The Ward was conversing with what Morgause could only assume was one of the suitors when she made her way into the throne room. The blonde entered tentatively, constantly on guard now that she was inside of King Uther’s castle. While she was here as a guest, she was still a newcomer to the city and that would draw attention. That could prove to be dangerous should she not tread carefully, so she opted to keep her head down. Morgause felt out of place without Gwen or Morgana at her side and she hoped it didn’t show. It seemed not to, or perhaps it was the fact that Morgana looked so breathtakingly beautiful in her emerald green gown that no one could take their eyes off of her.

That proved to not be the most preferable thing for Morgana however, when her eyes landed on Morgause and she quite literally tripped all over herself at the sight of her.

Arthur’s reflexes were quick and he caught Morgana before she landed on the ground. “Are you alright?” he asked, concerned. From where Morgause was standing it looked as though Morgana’s knees had buckled from under her and as she tried to regain her footing by taking a step back, she tripped on the hem of her dress. Morgana’s face was bright red as she realized all eyes in the room were on her and she nodded, allowing Arthur to steady her.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, looking thoroughly embarrassed, “I guess I got a little lightheaded. I’m fine now, I assure you.”

“C'est pourquoi les femmes ne devraient pas boire du vin,” the man she was speaking with before said, his tone condescending as he looked at Morgana with distaste. “Elles ne peuvent pas le manient.”

“Ce n'était pas le vin!” Morgana sharply responded. As Morgause did not speak French, she was unsure of what had aggravated her sister so, but it made the King rise from his throne and make his way over to the scene they had caused. He pulled Morgana away from prying ears, no doubt to lecture her about proper behavior in front of the suitors. 

The sight of Uther Pendragon daring to touch the thing most precious to her made the pit of Morgause’s stomach burn with an uncontrollable rage. Llamrei had always cautioned Morgause about her anger, and rightly so. The ground beneath their feet began to tremor slightly, causing concerned cries to echo through the throne room. Realizing that it was she who was doing it, Morgause turned away from Morgana and Uther and focused on calming herself before it got any worse. If she didn’t stop herself, she could bring the ceiling down on all of them.

The tremors stopped.

“It was merely the earth shifting,” Uther assured the worried guests after he left Morgana’s side. “There’s nothing to be concerned about; it happens every few years.” He smiled at them, but then shot Arthur a pointed look before bringing him away from the festivities to talk privately out in the hall. 

Morgause could not help but feel worried that Uther might suspect magick was at play, even though she had heard of the earth shifting of its own accord from the elders. Perhaps such a thing had never happened in Camelot before though, which made Morgause internally chastise herself over being so careless. She may have just put herself in danger.

She did not have much time to dwell on it however; Morgana had taken the opportunity of the unexplained phenomenon to get away from those who wished to court her, so she could do some courting of her own.

“You look…” she began softly, eying Morgause from head to toe as she tried to assess the proper word for how she felt. “ _Stunning._ Your beauty takes my breath away, Morgause.” Morgana’s gaze made the pit of the blonde’s stomach burn with need, her loins aching for the one thing she swore to herself she could not have. It was maddening. It was delicious. It was pure torture, yet Morgause could not help but savor every moment of it.

“You flatter me, my Lady,” Morgause responded, tearing her eyes away from her sister so she did not do something foolish. She wanted to reach out and touch her, but it would have been a moronic thing to do when there were so many witnesses around. “But I believe it is your radiance that could bring entire kingdoms to their knees; I fear I pale in such a comparison.”

Morgana’s breath caught in her throat. She took a step towards her, her hand reaching out for her before she realized where she was. She let it fall back to her side. “Words cannot express how happy I am that you came tonight,” she told her after a moment, emotion swimming behind her emerald eyes. “Your presence is the greatest gift I could receive.” Morgause’s heart pounded in her chest.

“I would not miss it for the world.”

Morgana chewed lightly on her bottom lip as she smiled. Morgause noticed that a few eyes had turned in their direction however, so she took a step back from her sister and tried to change the subject. She didn’t wish to be the cause of any harmful rumors. “What did that man say that upset you?” 

“Oh, um,” Morgana stumbled, seemingly taken off guard by the quick change of subject and mood between them. “Something about women and wine. I didn’t understand all of it, but it seemed rather rude. I haven’t even had anything to drink yet!”

Her eyes shifted as she noticed someone making their way over to them. Morgana quickly became exasperated. “But perhaps I should start,” she muttered beneath her breath. She shot Morgause an apologetic look. “Excuse me for a moment.”

Morgana moved from her sister’s side to try to side step the boy who was clearly trying to get her attention and though she managed to get lost in the crowd momentarily, he still ended up catching up to her at the refreshments table. Morgause watched Morgana consume nearly a full glass of wine in one gulp and she smirked to herself, understanding; that must be Prince Lionel. 

While Morgana was temporarily trapped by the visiting prince, Morgause began to weave through the guests to try to find Gwen. She spotted her entering the throne room with a few other servants, their hands full with platters of hors d'oeuvres. Morgause smiled as she approached and once Gwen noticed her, it was returned in kind.

“Morgause!” Gwen greeted warmly, putting the silver platter down on the table before reaching out to firmly clasp her hands. “You look amazing; that color suits you well.”

“The thanks should go to you then, for choosing it,” Morgause replied appreciatively. She furrowed her eyebrows as she took in what Gwen was doing, however. “You’re serving the party?” she questioned. It didn’t seem like her sister to have her friend working on her day of celebration.

Gwen shook her head though. “The King would not allow me to come as a guest,” she explained in a low voice, so as to not be overheard voicing her displeasure with the King’s decision. “He said it would give the wrong impression. Morgana was furious with his disapproval, but there was nothing she could do.” 

Morgause’s face darkened at the mention of Uther. Of course it was him who would have Gwen serve instead of allowing her to enjoy her friend’s birthday. He would never deem anyone without a title important, after all. 

Gwen shrugged lightly as she took to rearranging things on the mahogany surface to look more aesthetically pleasing. “I don’t mind, honestly. I’m just glad to be here. Besides,” she smirked lightly, “I know how Morgana likes things; it would probably bother me immensely should I have seen anyone doing it the wrong way.”

“I appreciate how much you take care of her, Guinevere,” Morgause responded with honesty. “She is very lucky to have a friend like you.” The maidservant smiled at her words.

“Did you and my father finish with Morgana’s gift?” Gwen asked after she had finished rearranging the table the way she liked it. Morgause smiled, nodding. That was why she was late; she wanted her gift to be perfect before presenting to her sister. Tom was so helpful in achieving that and Morgause was very grateful. “Have you given it to her?”

“Not yet,” Morgause answered, her eyes searching the crowd to land on her sister. She was dancing with Lionel now, but seemed displeased about having to do so. “It seems to be a difficult task; fighting for your mistress’s attention.”

“I’m sure if she had a choice, Morgana would be by your side the entire night.”

Morgause pursed her lips, glancing back over to Gwen. She knew that were true, yet chose not to comment about her feelings on the matter. Her eyes landed on Morgana and Lionel once more, a fierce jealousy burning in her heart. She so wished she could be the one privileged enough to dance with her.

“Here,” Gwen said, a note of sympathy in her voice as she held out a glass of wine. “You look as though you may need it.”

Morgause felt foolish that she allowed her feelings to show on her face, yet took the offering from Gwen. She was right; she did need it. “Thank you,” she replied quietly. Morgause forced herself to tear her eyes away from Morgana, knowing it would do no good to continue to torture herself. There was nothing she could do about it, after all.

“You should ask her to dance.”

Morgause raised an eyebrow at the maidservant’s suggestion. “You know I cannot do that.”

“I didn’t mean here,” Gwen told her, as though that should have been obvious. “But if you wish to have some time alone with her, I could arrange that. I just think it would make Morgana happy, to be able to dance with the one person she actually wants to on her birthday.”

It was obvious her words had an effect on Morgause. All she wanted was to make Morgana happy, and if Gwen’s suggestion would then she would be happy to do so. Besides, she would be lying if she said she didn’t crave a moment alone with her sister. Whether that was smart or not, Morgause did not know, but it would be foolish of her to pass up the opportunity should she get it. 

“If you could manage that, I’d be grateful.”

Gwen smiled. “Give me a moment,” she said before moving her way through the crowd. Morgause watched her for a moment, but before she could see what Gwen had planned, someone spoke from behind her.

“I do not believe we’ve met.”

Morgause turned, coming face to face with Arthur Pendragon. She tried to keep her face neutral, although it worried her that the young prince had sought her out. She had meant to blend in and clearly was not doing a very good job of it. “Morgause, your Majesty,” she introduced. The great amount of effort it took to not sound spiteful when she spoke to him was overwhelming. “I am the houseguest of your blacksmith.”

“And a friend of Morgana’s,” he noted. It was an assumption, not a question that Morgause would have preferred. She nodded anyway, knowing it would be useless to deny it.

“She has been very kind to me.”

“Morgana and Gwen are close; I suppose it would only be expected that she treat Gwen’s houseguest with the same amount of kindness that she shows her,” Arthur responded. Morgause did not like the way he was speaking to her; it was as though he were trying to figure her out. It made her anxious. But his tone changed almost immediately, as though he realized that Morgause knew exactly what he was doing. “Enjoying yourself?” His tone was much too casual now for the change to go unnoticed by the sorceress.

Morgause played the part of a grateful commoner, finding that it would probably be the best way to keep herself safe from more questions. “Very much so. I could hardly believe when I received the invitation; I have never seen anything more grand.”

“Not even in Mercia?”

Morgause noticeably froze. She hadn’t expected that. Of course it was probably foolish of her to not see it coming; she was brought to Camelot by two of Arthur’s knights, after all. They would have reported back to him.

“It seems you know much about me, for never giving me the privilege of your conversation before,” she said, using flattery with the hope that Arthur wouldn’t take note of her hesitation.

“My knights had said they escorted a woman from Mercia to Camelot; as you are both a newcomer and a woman, I had just assumed.” Arthur hesitated for a moment, seemingly torn between what he was here to do and saying what was right. “I am glad you found a home in our city,” he told her, actually sounding sincere. The entire mood in the conversation shifted quite suddenly once more and it took Morgause back for a moment. “And if it’s any consolation, I am very sorry for the tragedy that King Odin brought upon your lands. The lives that were lost will be avenged, I promise you.”

Morgause did not expect such compassionate words from the offspring of the ruthless Uther Pendragon. Perhaps Arthur was not like his father, even though he was obviously here to do his bidding. It frightened her a little, that the King was interested in where she had come from. But to look at it another way, if the King wanted to know who she was and why she was here, that meant he had yet to figure out that she was Morgana’s sister. That meant she had time and should she play this right, she could buy herself even more.

“That is very kind of you, your Majesty,” Morgause responded, bowing her head slightly with gratitude. “It warms my heart that Camelot cares so much for the wellbeing of its common people.”

Arthur looked pleased by Morgause’s assessment of his city. But before he could respond, he was interrupted by Morgana. “I need you!” she exclaimed, practically running up to them. However she stopped once Arthur turned around and she flushed, not realizing who Morgause had been talking to. “ _Help,_ I need your help,” she stumbled, all too aware now of how her previous plea sounded. 

“My Lady?” Morgause questioned, eyebrows rising at her sister’s state. The whole front of her dress was now covered with a dark stain that she was desperately trying to hide with her hands.

“Stand in front of me?” she requested. She didn’t wait for an answer though and quickly hid herself behind Morgause’s body, hoping no one would notice her embarrassment that way. 

Arthur looked amused at the Ward’s predicament. “You know, you’re supposed to _drink_ the wine, Morgana, not wear it.”

Morgana shot him a scathing look. “You’re so hilarious,” she deadpanned before turning her attention to Morgause. 

“Some drunken fool ran into me and spilt his drink all over my dress,” she explained, looking a little frantic about the state of her attire. Morgana began speaking faster, indicating her desperation, “I’d normally get Gwen to help me, but something set fire in the kitchens and she had to help save the dinner so if you have a minute could you please, _please_ help me try to get this out? It’s my favorite dress and I don’t want it ruined; I’d be forever grateful.”

Arthur outright rolled his eyes at Morgana’s ‘emergency’, but she ignored him. Morgause did too. “Of course, my Lady; whatever I can do to help,” she responded diplomatically, for Arthur’s sake. She did not want him to know how friendly the two of them were. 

Morgana breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” She turned then to Arthur, laying down more groundwork for their excuse to get away together for a moment. “If the King inquires as to my whereabouts, will you explain to him what happened and tell him I will not be long?”

“Fine, but if you can’t get it out then just _change,_ Morgana,” Arthur replied, looking a little perturbed about being the messenger. “This is your party; it would look bad should your absence be noted by certain people.”

“I know that,” Morgana replied, a tad exasperated at being lectured by the prince. She didn’t give him a chance to respond though; she was already tugging on Morgause’s arm, encouraging her to follow. “Come on, we need to be quick,” Morgana said before leading the sorceress out of the throne room and down the hallway.

Morgause followed without a word, unsure of where Morgana was taking her. It didn’t really matter though, because as Morgana wove their fingers together and looked back to smile at her, Morgause realized she would probably follow her to the ends of the earth anyway.

**TBC…**


	9. Courage

**CHAPTER IX  
Courage**

Morgana was ecstatic to hear that Morgause wanted some time alone with her, so when Gwen suggested that she spill wine on herself as an excuse to get away, Morgana was more than happy to oblige. A part of her did hope that Gwen could get the stain out later though; she wasn’t lying when she said this was her favorite dress. But even as she thought it, Morgana knew that even if she couldn’t, the few moments she could spend alone with Morgause on her birthday would be well worth it. It was all she had wanted from this day anyway.

Her grip tightening on Morgause’s hand, Morgana smiled at her as she led her into her bed chambers. If she wanted privacy with the blonde, there was no better place; it was unlikely that someone would come idly wandering into her room, after all. Once she had closed the door behind them, Morgana lightly chewed on her bottom lip. For how badly she had wanted this, she felt like there was now this enormous pressure on her to use these stolen moments to her advantage. Morgana was unsure of how to proceed.

“Gwen said you wished to see me privately?” she asked after a few second’s hesitation. Morgana inwardly chastised herself, knowing that if she wished to push her relationship with Morgause to the next level then beating around the bush was no way to do it. But Morgana had never courted anyone before and was nervous. 

She had come to the conclusion not long after that horrible dream that she didn’t want to live her life without knowing what it was like to be with Morgause. It was a risky decision to have made, but Morgana could not imagine keeping her feelings inside of her any longer. If the dream taught her anything, it was that things could change in an instant. Morgana didn’t want to live with any regrets.

She wanted Morgause desperately, but the problem was that she didn’t know how to tell her. The words stuck in her throat from fear and Morgana hated herself for not being courageous enough to push past it.

“I wanted to give you your birthday gift,” Morgause told her, a small smile on the edge of her lips as she bent down. Morgana furrowed her eyebrows, wondering where Morgause could have hidden a gift in such a tight fitting dress, but she quickly got her answer. Morgause slid the hem of her gown up her leg and Morgana couldn’t help but stare, taking note of every curve should she never be able to see it again. 

At the rate she was going, she wouldn’t be surprised if she died alone. 

Morgana’s breathing shallowed as Morgause exposed her thigh. Though she was probably not intending it to be, Morgana found the movement to be the singular most erotic thing she had ever witnessed. What made it even better was the leather band around her right thigh that holstered the most beautiful of daggers. Morgana’s mouth dropped open as Morgause slid it from its home and held it out for her.

“For you, my Lady.”

“You made this?” Morgana asked, awestruck as she took the dagger from Morgause’s hand. The hilt was made of silver with the most intricate of carvings. It must have taken so much work to complete in such a short amount of time. Morgana was moved by the gesture and she whispered, “Oh, Morgause… it’s beautiful.” She looked up at her, smiling so much that her cheeks began to hurt. But she didn’t care, because the smile that was returned made her weak at the knees.

“Happy birthday, Morgana.”

Overwhelmed by the gift, Morgana took a step towards her. Without hesitation she drew her into her arms, holding her tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered in her ear. Her lips found Morgause’s cheek and she pressed a lingering kiss against her ivory skin, wishing she were bold enough to find the blonde’s mouth with her own. 

Morgana closed her eyes as she held her, just enjoying the feeling of the other woman against her. She loved moments like these and Morgana wished to indulge in it as long as possible. Morgause’s grip around her waist tightened, drawing Morgana even nearer to her and the Ward’s heart leapt into her throat. Was that a sign? Should she kiss her? This would be so much easier if Morgause would just make the first move, but something inside of Morgana told her that she was afraid to. She didn’t know why; wasn’t she giving her all the signals that she needed to proceed? It was absolutely maddening, not knowing what she should do. 

But before Morgana could come to a conclusion she was happy with, Morgause slowly drew away from her. “Perhaps you should get changed,” she suggested softly. The disappointment weighed heavy in Morgana’s stomach; she should have done something. Now the moment was over.

“Right, of… of course,” she stumbled, turning her back towards Morgause. She didn’t want her to see how flustered she was beginning to get. Exhaling a heavy breath, Morgana silently told herself to get a grip; becoming a bumbling idiot wouldn’t get her far either. She wished she knew how to be enticing, so that she could perhaps tease Morgause incessantly until she gave in, but Morgana didn’t have the first clue about how to be a temptress.

Crossing the room, Morgana stood in front of her wardrobe. She riffled through her gowns for a moment before she realized she could probably use this to her advantage as well, should she be courageous enough to try. It was bold though, much too bold for any Lady of the court. She was expected to uphold proper behavior and well, her thought was anything but. Morgana felt as though she were desperate to get Morgause’s attention though, to make such a statement that it could not go unnoticed, and so her heart began to beat heavily in her chest as she untied the laces that bound her dress. 

Morgana wished her hands were not shaking from nerves, as this would probably be much more arousing should she have the confidence to do it without a second thought. It helped a little that her back was turned to Morgause, for when her dress pooled around her feet and her shift was exposed to her eyes the Ward blushed furiously. The dressing screen was right next to her, so it should have been more than obvious that Morgana wanted her to see. The problem was, now that she did it, she was so embarrassed that it might not be well received that she was afraid to turn around.

“Help me pick out a gown?” she tried to suggest lightly, however the slight tremor in her voice gave her away. Morgana closed her eyes, feeling like this may have been a foolish decision to make. Morgause hadn’t said a word yet and it was driving her to madness. 

But then she could feel the woman behind her. Morgause was still silent but Morgana could hear how pronounced her breathing had become and it made the pit of the Ward’s stomach flutter nervously. She wasn’t touching her, yet the heat between them was undeniable. Morgana had to bite down on her bottom lip to keep from making a sound as Morgause leaned into her, pressing her breasts against her back as she reached forward to lightly finger the silken material in the wardrobe.

“This one,” she said, her voice so low that it had become almost husky. “You’d look beautiful in this one…” Morgause’s other hand had rested on her hip and Morgana felt as though she may pass out from the feeling of the other woman against her when she was in such a state of undress. An arousal like she had never known coursed through her, dampening the apex between her thighs.

Not wanting the feeling to stop, Morgana tried to prolong the moment. “I… I’m not sure,” she replied softly, voice trembling softly as reached out to show Morgause another gown. “I think that I… that I may want this one…”

Morgause said nothing. It was as though she were having a hard time speaking as well and Morgana’s hand fell from the dress, covering the one that lay on her hip. She closed her eyes, silently telling herself to not let this moment pass before she laced their fingers together, dragging Morgause’s hand over the taut muscles in her stomach. The small sound that Morgause made in the back of her throat made Morgana lightheaded and she rested all of her weight against her chest, her fingers tightening their grip on the blonde’s hand as she moved it upwards, allowing it to rest just beneath the curvature of her breasts. She didn’t have the courage to guide Morgause to touch her in the way she desperately wanted, but it seemed it did not matter.

Suddenly lips where on the back of her neck and Morgana whimpered softly in approval. “Please…” she begged, her voice no more than a broken whisper filled with wanton desire. She couldn’t hold it in any longer. She needed Morgause like she needed air to breathe; she felt as though she may die without her. “I’ve dreamt of your touch for so long…”

Morgause’s breathing was beginning to labor, sending waves of arousal coursing through the Ward’s body. She kissed her again, just beneath her ear. Morgana could feel her tongue on her skin and she made a rather embarrassing sound as she felt like she was melting into her. “We shouldn’t,” Morgause told her softly, yet made no move to draw away from her. If anything, it seemed if she got impossibly closer.

“Yet you want to?” Morgana questioned breathlessly, knowing it was probably a stupid thing to ask whist Morgause’s lips found her skin once more. But she needed to know, she needed to hear it. If she did, she knew she would find the courage inside of her to turn around.

Morgause paused, but not for long. “Yes,” she admitted, sounding as though her conscious was finally defeated by her desire. Morgana’s heart pounded in her chest at those words and she finally allowed her lust to overtake her sanity.

“Then that’s all that matters to me,” she whispered passionately, finally guiding Morgause’s hand further upwards, sliding it over her breast. It was the blonde’s hand that palmed it desperately though, eliciting a deep moan from Morgana’s lips. She felt like she was falling and it felt so good that she knew she never wanted to stop.

Suddenly she was spun around, her back colliding with the door of the wardrobe. Morgause pressed her body into hers, looking her deep in the eyes. Morgana’s nipple strained against her touch and she gasped, pushing her hips into her thigh to try to get some friction. She could feel Morgause’s breath against her lips and she whimpered, desperately wishing that she would kiss her. “Please,” she begged once more, thoroughly feeling as though she may collapse should Morgause not give her what she wanted.

Morgause cupped her cheek with her hand, her chest heaving with desire as she pressed herself more firmly against her body. “You are more perfect than I could have ever dreamed, Morgana,” she whispered, her words tickling her skin before she leaned in, finally pressing her lips to hers. Morgana’s mouth opened invitingly, allowing Morgause to swallow her moan as their tongues entwined. She grasped at her dress, feeling as though she were drowning but not caring in the slightest.

For if this was how she was going to die, Morgana would surely welcome it with open arms.

[x]

Morgause knew what she was doing was wrong. She knew it also wasn’t fair to Morgana. But she couldn’t help herself any longer; how could anyone sane say no to what Morgana was offering? Morgause had always prided herself on her willpower, but her sister practically begging to be taken was too much for her to handle. Her loins ached with a desire she had never felt before and it consumed her whole, burning her up from the inside out. Morgause felt as though she had been waiting for this moment all her life and she would have been a fool to decline it when all she had ever wanted was to taste Morgana’s skin.

She kissed her passionately, dragging her fingernails up her sister’s thigh. Morgana shuddered beneath her, wrapping her arms around her neck as she whimpered against her lips. Her body was hot with desire and as Morgause dragged her lips downwards to suck gently on the base of her neck, Morgana’s eyes glassed over and she began to emit sounds that struck something primal deep in Morgause’s core. She bit down.

Morgana gasped in pleasure, her fingernails digging into her skin. The feeling seemed to give her sister more confidence, for she grabbed Morgause’s chin in her hand and pulled her face upwards, brutally colliding their lips together as she began to guide her backwards. Morgause’s knees hit the edge of Morgana’s bed and she fell backwards, holding tight to Morgana’s shift so she fell with her. They laid there for a moment, one on top of the other, breathing labored as they stared into each other’s eyes. 

The world seemed to grind to a halt around them, for all Morgause could see was her sister. Her cheeks were flushed, her pupils dilated, and she was by far the most magnificent creature she had ever had the pleasure of laying eyes upon. 

“I want…” she tried, but the words seemed to stick in her throat. Morgana bit her lower lip and let her fingers trail down Morgause’s arm, bringing the strap of her dress with her. For being so bold before, now she looked shy. Morgause’s insides clenched, realizing that Morgana wished to undress her. That was too much, even for her. She had never been with another person and she knew Morgana hadn’t either, and despite how badly she wanted to, Morgause knew that right now was not the moment when they would share that pleasure.

“We don’t have time,” Morgause told her regrettably, even though a part of her was glad for it. This was going much faster than she was prepared for, and by the look on Morgana’s face she felt the same way. 

It was hard though, to have so much desire and not know how to proceed with it. It was driving Morgause mad, but she had to be rational; they had come in here for Morgana to change clothes. If they stayed long enough to do what they wanted to do, their absence would be noticed. And if anyone should come looking and see them in such a compromising position, it could be their undoing. Outside of Gwen, no one in Camelot would condone what they felt for one another.

Morgana pursed her lips, her eyes downcast as she nodded. She looked as though she felt foolish for even suggesting it. Not wanting Morgana to come to the wrong conclusion, Morgause reached up and tentatively stroked her cheek. “Please believe that it is not because I don’t want to,” she said softly, running her thumb over her sister’s bottom lip. “I would move the heavens themselves just to be allotted a single moment of your flesh against mine.”

Morgana’s breathing shallowed and she turned her face, kissing Morgause’s palm. She closed her eyes, whispering against her skin, “I never thought I would feel this way for another. It’s consuming me. Please tell me that it’s the same for you…” Her expression turned a bit fearful as she realized that she had opened a door that she was unsure about what lay on the other side. But Morgause knew her sister had nothing to fear, so she rose up and captured her lips with hers once more.

“You complete me, Morgana,” she breathed as she ran her fingers through her hair, overwhelmed by the emotion her sister could elicit from her heart. “I cannot bear the thought of living my life without you.” Morgana’s smile was radiant, making her more impossibly beautiful than she already was.

Morgause stroked her cheek delicately before kissing her once more, allowing Morgana to fall into her against the sheets. They grasped for one another, unable to keep their hands to themselves now that they found themselves intertwined. Morgause knew that they should stop, that they should get back to the party, but as Morgana kissed down her collarbone all sanity left her mind. She whispered her sister’s name into the stillness of the night, letting out a soft groan once Morgana began to explore her body with her hands. Even though it was over her dress, Morgana’s touch still made Morgause’s body feel like it was on fire. She tangled her fingers in her dark tresses and closed her eyes as she arched her body into her.

Knowing she needed to get control of the situation, Morgause quickly rolled her sister over, switching their positions so that she might feel less at her mercy. But as she looked down at Morgana, watching her chest rise and fall rapidly with desire, Morgause knew she would always be at her mercy no matter who had the dominant position. She kissed her fiercely, slipping her thigh in between her legs. This, indecently, did not help matters in the slightest. Morgause had forgotten that her sister was wearing nothing but a shift and she found out very quickly that the apex of Morgana’s thighs was practically swimming in her arousal. They both groaned, pushing into one another.

Morgana was practically panting beneath her and Morgause had to still her movements to get a grip on reality. She rested her forehead against her sister’s as she closed her eyes, yet still did not move her thigh. The feeling of Morgana’s desire was too sweet to pull away from just yet. Still, she tried to be rational. “We can’t do this,” she gasped, hating every word that was falling from her lips. “We’ve been gone too long.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Morgana breathed passionately before leaning upwards, trying to capture her lips once more. Morgause hated that she had to, but she turned her face away from her. One of them needed to be competent enough to stop this.

“It does. You know it does,” Morgause whispered apologetically, looking down at the stunning beauty beneath her, wishing she never had to leave her bed. “Someone will come looking. If we’re found like this…” Morgana chewed on her bottom lip, looking terribly disappointed by reality. Morgause knew exactly how she felt. “I’m so sorry, love,” she apologized, tracing her sister’s jaw with her fingertips. “But there is always tomorrow. I’ll spend all day with you, if you’d like.”

“Yeah?” Morgana asked softly, a shy smile forming on her lips. Morgause nodded, looking at her with all the love in the world.

“Of course. There’s…” Morgause hesitated for a moment, but knew she needed to finally tell Morgana the truth so she finished her sentence. “There’s something important I need to speak with you about anyway.” She was surprised that she hadn’t had to clean up any of Morgana’s magickal messes yet, but maybe her powers manifested in a different way than hers did when she was young. Or perhaps it was just that nothing had brought Morgana to an emotional climax yet; that was, after all, when most young sorceresses lose control over their abilities.

Morgana furrowed her eyebrows at her words, but she did not have a chance to respond. The door to her bedchambers opened suddenly and the two sisters flew away from each other, panicked. Morgana clutched the sheets to her chest to protect her modesty as they both turned towards the door, setting their eyes on Gwen whose own had gone as large as saucers at what she had walked in on.

“Oh god, I am so sorry!” she squeaked in embarrassment, covering her face and averting her eyes from the scene in front of her. Gwen shut the door in a hurry though, frantic over what she came here to tell them. “The King is coming,” she told them, worried that the two of them being found in such a predicament. “Get dressed, _now!_ ”

Both of them scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over themselves in their haste to look presentable. But as Morgana was getting herself dressed into another gown, Gwen quickly took Morgause’s arm and pulled her to her. “You need to leave,” she told her seriously, fear swimming behind her onyx eyes. “I don’t know why, but it’s you the King is looking for, not Morgana.”

Morgause’s stomach dropped to the floor.

“ _Me?_ ”

How could the King have found out about her? She hadn’t led Arthur to believe anything was off in their conversation, had she? She thought she was being careful! Fear was gripping her chest and she looked back at Morgana, who had stopped moving completely, looking as though she may faint. Whether Uther was looking for her because he somehow found out she was a sorceress or that she was Morgana’s lover, neither scenario ended happily. 

“Go!” Gwen shouted at her, tugging at her friend’s arm. Morgause forced herself back to reality and quickly headed towards the door, but it was too late. It was slammed open, the wood clattering against the stone wall so loudly that all three girls stumbled backwards in fear. The King strode into the room, followed by two guards.

“Detain that woman!” he ordered, and before Morgause knew what was happening, the guards had grabbed both of her arms, their vice grip causing her skin to bruise. It took every amount of self-control she had in her not to blow them both backwards; revealing her magick right now would only make things worse until she knew her crime. Although she was frightened, she mustered up all the courage she had inside of her so it would not show on her face… or in her abilities.

“On what charges?!” Morgana shrieked, fearful for the woman she cared most for in this world. She ran to stand in front of Morgause protectively, holding out her arms as though to shield her from Uther’s wrath. “She’s done nothing; let her go!”

“She is wanted for questioning,” Uther told her, although seemed displeased about having to explain his actions to his Ward. “Now move, Morgana; this does not concern you!”

“If you want to question her than do so, just don’t treat her like a criminal!”

Uther ignored Morgana’s pleas. “Take her to the dungeons,” he ordered his guards. They began to drag her out of the room and Morgana tried to run to her, but was stopped by Uther before she could get past the threshold. She cried out for her, fighting against Uther’s grip as the door shut behind them.

Morgause felt sick as she allowed the guards to pull her away, for she knew that if it came down to it, she would have to escape Camelot without Morgana to save her own life. She promised her sister that she would never leave her. Morgause wanted to be by her side forever; teach her, take care of her, _love_ her.

It nearly shattered her heart to realize that she may no longer have a choice in the matter.

**TBC…**


	10. Sorcery

**CHAPTER X  
Sorcery**

This was just like her dream.

Morgana screamed Morgause’s name, trying to fight against Uther’s grip. He was ordering her to calm down, but she couldn’t even if she tried. Fear was overtaking her entire being, causing tears to stream down her face. If her nightmare really was coming to pass, that meant fire was in Morgause’s future. That scared Morgana more than words could describe. But it was impossible, wasn’t it? Only those with magick could see into the future, so it was just a dream. It had to be a dream; it couldn’t be real, because if it was real then…

The possibility of having to witness Morgause’s death overwhelmed her and she let out a strangled cry, feeling something powerful rise up from within her. The feeling frightened her and she desperately tried to control it, but it was too late. Suddenly, the blue vase that was sitting delicately on the table near Guinevere shattered, causing all three of them to cry out.

Morgana and Gwen stared at each other wide eyed as they both realized what happened almost instantly. The Ward went pale. “What the hell was that?!” Uther demanded, turning around to shoot Gwen a furious look, believing it was her to blame. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Gwen stuttered, immediately taking the fall for her mistress. “I… m-my hands slipped, I didn’t—”

“Stupid girl,” Uther spat, at the end of his rope over this whole situation. “Don’t just sit there and sputter at me, clean it up!”

Morgana wished she could tell the King not to speak to Gwen that way, but she couldn’t utter a word. She could barely move. She just continued to stare at the broken remnants of pottery that covered the floor of her bedchambers, in complete disbelief that it was her who just caused that to happen. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe.

Morgana’s knees buckled from underneath her.

Uther caught her before she hit the floor, but his gesture was in no way gentle. “Pull yourself together,” he barked as he forced her to sit down on her bed. “I don’t know why you’re so concerned over that _meaningless_ woman’s fate, but you have a room full of guests who need your attention. I will not have you embarrassing this kingdom, do you hear me?”

“She’s my friend…” Morgana tried to explain, yet she felt as though she were in some sort of daze and her voice came out as a hoarse whisper. She couldn’t look at him; she couldn’t look at anything. She felt as though she was staring through the world itself.

“You can always make new ones,” Uther responded, his tone uncaring as he rose from her side. “Now make yourself look presentable; I expect for you to be back down there with a smile on your face before dinner is served, less you wish me to marry you off to the highest bidder _tomorrow_. Is that clear?” Morgana felt as though she was suffocating, but she still managed to nod her head. She didn’t want to give the King any reason to stay longer than he had to. “ _Good._ ”

Uther strode from the room, not even sparing Gwen a glance as he stepped over her to get to the door; it was as though he regarded her as nothing more than part of the scenery. The door slammed shut behind him and Morgana jumped, irrationally afraid for a moment that she herself had done that. Gwen immediately abandoned her task of cleaning and wrapped her friend up in her arms.

“Are you alright, my Lady?” she asked, concern coloring her features. Morgana found she could not speak, but shook her head violently before burying her face into Gwen’s neck. She began to cry. She didn’t know what was happening anymore; it seemed like the whole world had flipped upside down on her and the knowledge that nothing would ever be the same suffocated her.

“Can you catch it…?” Morgana asked desperately through her tears, clinging to the one person who was unchanged through all of this.

Gwen furrowed her brow, unsure of what her friend was referring too. She rubbed her back, trying to console her. “What?” she asked, trying to be supportive although Morgana knew she must be bursting with questions. She couldn’t handle that right now though and Gwen knew it.

“Magick,” Morgana choked out, trying to make sense of what had happened. How could she be normal one minute, then exploding vases in the next? It didn’t make any sense; it had to be some sort of fluke, some aftermath from being intimate with Morgause. “Can you touch someone and just… get it? Like some sort of plague? Because I can’t… I…!”

“Shh,” Gwen hushed, tightening her grip on Morgana. She stroked her hair, trying to calm her down so they could talk without Morgana being on the verge of a panic attack. Her breathing was coming out as a hard wheeze and she was shaking from head to toe. 

Morgana knew she was frightening her friend but she couldn’t stop. She was beyond terrified, not only for herself, but for Morgause. If Uther didn’t know why she was so upset then it could mean only one thing; he suspected that she was a sorceress. He didn’t arrest her though – just brought her into custody to be questioned – so there was still hope. Not that it mattered, as Morgana didn’t have the first clue about how to help her. She didn’t even know how to help herself right now.

It took a little while, but Gwen finally had her calmed down and breathing normally. “Do you think you can speak without crying now?” she asked cautiously, not wanting to set Morgana off again. The Ward nodded, sniffling slightly as the last of her tears dried. “We don’t have much time; I need to get you presentable quickly so you can go back down there. But please, for the love of everything, Morgana, _explain to me what is happening right now._ ” Gwen looked into her eyes, her gaze a desperate plea to understand. Morgana wished she could explain, but she didn’t even know herself what was going on anymore.

Morgana opened her mouth to speak, but Gwen held up a finger. She looked apologetic that she spoke before action was required. “In a second though, I need to get something. Just stay there and breathe for me, okay? It will all be alright.” 

Morgana didn’t know why Gwen asked if she was just going to leave a moment later, but when her handmaiden came back with a cool cloth, Morgana understood; Gwen was not going to allow her to go back down there with red, puffy eyes. It was embarrassing enough, to be absent for so long, but to come back looking like she had been crying? That would have been so much worse. Morgana held out her hand for the fabric, giving her friend a small smile of thanks. 

“Keep this on your eyes,” Gwen instructed gently, her tone sympathetic as she took in Morgana’s state. The Ward knew she must look a wreck; she felt like she had been trampled by a stampede of wild horses and left to die. “But talk to me while I fix your hair, alright?” Morgana nodded, holding the cloth to her face. She prayed it would do her good.

As Gwen started arranging her hair back to its previous state, Morgana began by pleading. “Gwen, if I… if I tell you something, you mustn’t breathe a word of it to anyone. _Please._ ” She didn’t think she would, but Morgana needed to have her word; Morgause’s life was on the line. She needed to hear her promise.

Hands stilled in her hair for a moment, Gwen recognizing how serious this was to Morgana. “Of course, my Lady; you have my word,” she promised softly. “It is you I am loyal to, above all others. You know this.”

Morgana pursed her lips, nodding. As Gwen swept her hair back from her face once more, Morgana whispered, “Morgause is a sorceress.” The hair fell back into her eyes, Gwen having lost her grip on it. Morgana froze, waiting for her friend to start yelling at her about how foolish she was to associate with someone like her, or be furious that Morgana knew and yet didn’t bother to tell Gwen that she was currently housing someone who’s very presence was treason. However, her maidservant did neither of those things.

Instead she said, “And you believe you caught magick from her.” Morgana didn’t understand how Gwen could be so calm about this, and although it wasn’t a question, Morgana nodded her answer anyway. But she shrugged shortly afterwards, groaning as she realized how naïve she must sound.

“I don’t know anymore. I know everyone says sorcery is in the blood, but that can’t be true, can it? Nothing like this has ever happened to me before!”

“Perhaps it arrives when one comes of age.”

The thought made Morgana’s stomach sink with fear. If that was the case, then this really was happening to her; it wasn’t just some aftereffect of her time with Morgause. This was _real._ That frightened her. She was the Ward of Camelot, she was much too close to the King to ever attempt to hide such a thing. She would be killed. She probably wouldn’t even last a fortnight!

Morgana began to hyperventilate once more.

“No, no…!” Gwen exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her mistress once more. “I’m sorry, I spoke before I thought! Please, calm down. We don’t know why this happened, alright? Perhaps… perhaps if you just spoke to Morgause…?”

“How? She’s in the dungeons, Gwen!” Morgana shouted, despair coloring every word as another tear fell from her eye. “I’ll never be able to get near her!” Her breathing was becoming so frantic that she nearly choked on it.

“Yes, you will,” Gwen promised, gently hushing her as she rocked Morgana back and forth. She wiped the fallen tear from her friend’s eye before replacing the cool cloth against her skin, not wanting the redness to get any worse than it already was. “I’ll help you, alright? Please, just calm yourself. Please…” She rested her head against hers, holding her protectively. 

Morgana clung to her, glad that she had at least one friend in this world. Gwen never judged her, she never betrayed her; she was loyal to a fault and was incredibly understanding. If there was one thing Morgana was most thankful for, it would definitely have to be that she had someone like Guinevere in her life. She didn’t know what she would do without her sometimes and right now was no different.

Morgana took over holding the cloth on her face, not wanting Gwen to do all the work. She leaned against her friend, trying to steady her breathing. She knew she couldn’t do this right now; she had to get back to the party. If she didn’t, the punishment would be far worse than trying to pretend that she was happy for a few hours.

“Thank you,” Morgana whispered. “For not being scared of me, or of her. You don’t know how frightened I am already; I couldn’t bear the thought of you—!”

“Shh,” Gwen hushed soothingly, stroking her hair. Morgana fell silent. “Morgana, I’m not so simple that the mere mention of ‘sorcery’ would frighten me into some sort of frenzy. You’ve been my best friend for years; just because you may have magick now, that doesn’t change who you are as a person.” She smiled at her, brushing a piece of hair away from Morgana’s face before pinning it back in place atop her head. “And Morgause… she has been a great help to my father and has shown me nothing but kindness since she’s been here. The fact that she is a sorceress doesn’t change that either.”

“High Priestess,” Morgana corrected softly. Gwen’s eyebrows rose in surprise, obviously not expecting someone that young to have such a title.

“Impressive.”

Morgana couldn’t help but smile, loving that she could brag about that to someone. “I know.” She bit her bottom lip a little as she thought about Morgause, her smile growing bigger as she remembered how it felt to be with her. But then her face fell, reality setting in once more. If she didn’t find a way to help her, that may very well be the last time they would ever be together. Morgana couldn’t let that happen.

She turned towards Gwen, fear in her eyes once more. “We have to get her out of there, Gwen. We _have_ to.”

Gwen pursed her lips, her expression saying more than her words; she was unsure if they would be able to. Camelot’s dungeons were a hard place to break out of. Only a few have ever managed and neither Gwen nor Morgana had any experience in that area. “First let’s get you a moment alone to speak with her,” she tried, hoping Morgana would realize they needed to take things one step at a time. “Then we will figure out how to get her released.” The Ward nodded in agreement, knowing Gwen was right about taking it slow.

Morgana just hoped that they would have time to.

[x]

The next morning, Morgause was taken to the throne room by two of Camelot’s guards.

Uther sat on his throne, a menacing expression on his face as he watched Morgause be thrown to her knees before him, using her shackled wrists to try to catch herself from falling on her face. His son stood to his right, looking much less enthusiastic about how roughly their prisoner was being treated. He said nothing however. A few paces behind him stood and old man and what looked like to be a servant boy. Outside of them, the room was deserted. 

Morgause had half-hoped that she would be able to see Morgana, but a part of her was glad for it; she didn’t know how much Uther knew and did not want things to be revealed to her sister before she was ready to reveal them herself. Her expression stony, she looked up at the King. She wished she could show him how easy it would be for her to free herself from her chains, just so she could see the look of horror upon his ugly face, but Morgause knew that the safest thing to do right now was just to deny everything. Perhaps then, if she got lucky, she would be set free and be able to see Morgana again.

Morgause was surprised that it was not her that Uther addressed first.

“Well, Gaius?” he asked the old man. “Is it her?” Hope swelled in Morgause’s heart; if it was identification the king needed, she would be set free within hours. Morgause was certain she had never seen the old man before in her life.

Gaius seemed rather uncomfortable with the question. “I cannot be certain, my Lord,” he replied. “The child was smuggled out of Camelot at a very young age; I do not think it would be possible for me to identify her as she is now, should this woman even be the Morgause you’re looking for.”

Morgause’s stomach sank. She should have used another name. She had assumed Uther would not remember who she was, but she could not have been more wrong. She had also been wrong about her belief that Uther thought her dead; though that was the story that was told when she left Camelot, it seemed someone had betrayed them. The rage that burned within Morgause at that thought was quickly suppressed though; if she wished to get out of this alive, she had to keep control of her emotions.

Uther looked displeased by Gaius’s assessment. “But she is of the proper age, is she not?” he demanded. Once again, the old man’s answers were not what he wanted to hear.

“I suppose she could be, but it is possible that there are many women that look the proper age and bare the same name all across Albion. I fear it is not much to go on, my Lord.”

“But she is the only one of them who purposely sought out Morgana!” The King’s voice was booming, causing everyone in the room to fall silent. 

“Her handmaiden kindly invited me into her home when I had no place to go,” Morgause tried to explain. “I didn’t—!”

“You will speak when spoken to!” Uther bellowed before waving his hand to one of the guards, giving him the signal to silence the prisoner. Morgause cried out when the hilt of a sword slammed into her back and she crumpled to the floor.

“Father!” Arthur tried to protest, but it fell on deaf ears.

“I believe this woman is a sorceress, I must do what is necessary,” he told his son sharply, not leaving much room for argument. Gaius, however, had a point to make.

“With all due respect, my Lord; if this woman is who you believe her to be, she would have been trained since childhood to take her birthright as High Priestess of the Old Religion. Those shackles you have her bound in would not be able to stop her from fleeing.”

This seemed to make Uther pause, however it also seemed to make him furious that he had done so. “A trick,” he growled, convincing himself of such. “To make us believe she is nothing but an innocent girl.”

Gaius looked exasperated. So did Arthur.

“She doesn’t even look like her!” he protested. Uther turned towards his son, looking displeased that he had spoken out against him. “Father, if this woman really is Morgana’s sister she would look like her, wouldn’t she? They couldn’t look more different.”

“Just because their hair color is different, doesn’t mean anything,” Uther told him, speaking to him as though he were stupid for looking at such a large difference, yet a trivial one overall. “Look at her features, Arthur; her eyes, her nose. She is clearly a Le Fay.”

Everyone began to stare at Morgause, scrutinizing her appearance. The blonde scowled and turned her face from them, despising being treated like no more than a caged animal for their amusement. “I am not who you think I am,” she insisted, trying to keep her voice strong to convey truth from her lie. “My surname is Isengard, not Le Fay.”

Uther waved his hand once more and Morgause was silenced by another blow to her back. She cried out in pain, wishing beyond anything else that she could snuff out Uther Pendragon’s life right then and there.

“Father, please,” Arthur stepped in, trying to compromise. “Let me ride to Mercia, see if what this woman says about herself is true. I’ll be back before nightfall tomorrow.” 

Although Morgause was grateful that the prince may have bought her more time, it still was of no help. No one in Mercia would know who she was and Uther would sentence her to death, convinced that she really was Morgause Le Fay. It seemed unlikely now that she would be freed.

Uther took a moment to think about his son’s proposal. Finally he relented, “Fine. But I assure you, Arthur; no one in Mercia will have ever heard of a Morgause _Isengard._ ” He looked at Morgause when he spat out her fake surname, convinced she was lying. She was, but that wasn’t the point. It took an incredible amount of effort not to glare at the man.

Arthur nodded in acknowledgement before heading off, yet stopped and turned around as he realized he wasn’t being followed. “I don’t have all _day_ , Merlin,” he said exasperatedly to the servant boy, who looked surprised that Arthur needed him to accompany him on the journey.

“Right, sorry.” The boy trotted off after his master and once he and Arthur had disappeared from the room, Uther finally turned his attention to Morgause.

“Tell me, _Morgause_ ,” the name was like offal in the King’s mouth. “What is your relationship to my Ward?”

Morgause kept her expression neutral, knowing he was trying to trip her up. “She is my friend.” An understatement to be sure, but she sold the lie flawlessly.

Uther still looked disbelieving. He leaned forward, trying to intimidate her. “Then why is it that a friend that Morgana has had for barely a fortnight,” he began slowly, “Why is it that _your_ fate, has her distressed to the point of screaming and tears?”

Morgause didn’t know how to answer that at first and her hesitation was noticeable. “I…”

“Did you tell her that the two of you were blood?!” Uther shouted, clearly more afraid of that possibility than anything else. Morgause had to wonder why.

“No!” she exclaimed. “We’re not—she’s not my blood, my Lord! She’s just my friend!”

Uther waved his hand and the blow to her back this time nearly brought tears to the sorceress’s eyes. Pain was shooting down her spine and she gasped, trying to bear it. 

“It disgusts me,” he told her, “that you can lie to my face so easily.”

Morgause didn’t bother getting up this time. She just lay on the floor, cheek pressed against the wood as she tried to breathe normally. She was stronger than this man; she could bear the pain. She could endure anything Uther did to her, she was sure of it.

It was just hard.

“Take her back to the dungeons,” Uther ordered his guards. “I will deal with her when Arthur returns.”

Morgause was hoisted to her feet roughly and she gritted her teeth, trying not to cry out from the pain. She was sick of giving Uther the satisfaction. She was a prisoner, being held and beaten although there was no evidence against her. He was paranoid, that was all; and although he was right to be, there was no legal reason for him to do this to her. So if Uther wanted to play like this, then _fine._ She would make it her personal goal to take everything from him that he had ever loved.

Starting with Morgana.

**TBC…**


	11. The Dungeons

**CHAPTER XI  
The Dungeons**

Morgana spotted Arthur from her bedchamber window about to take leave and took off, running as fast as she could through the castle halls to get to him in time. She knew Arthur was there when Morgause was questioned; Uther now preformed most royal business in front of him, to prepare him for when the time came that he would be king.

Morgana needed to know what was going on; it was killing her inside not knowing if Morgause had hope or not. If there was a chance that she could be released, Morgana didn’t want to help her try to escape. It could ruin Morgause’s chances of true freedom should she manage to screw it up, or condemn her to life as a fugitive when there was no reason for her to be. Morgana needed to go about this delicately.

“Arthur!”

Morgana took the steps two at a time to reach him, nearly tripping over her gown in the process, but she didn’t care; she was just glad she reached him in time before he set off. Arthur turned away from his task of fitting the saddlebag on his horse, his eyebrows rising at the sight of the Ward. “Morgana,” he greeted, surprised to see her there.

“Please, tell me what’s happening to her,” she begged, grabbing hold of his arm to further enhance her desperation. She didn’t even bother with pleasantries, though she doubted Arthur expected them.

“Morgana…” his tone was sympathetic and the Ward hated it. She didn’t want to hear about how he couldn’t speak about royal business; Morgause was her friend, her… her lover. She needed to know. “You know I can’t—”

“ _Please,_ ” Morgana pleaded, knowing she looked as desperate as she felt. “Arthur, she’s my friend. I care for her and I’m worried. You know I have a right to know, _please._ Do this favor for me, I beg of you.”

Arthur let out a hesitant breath. His eyes shifted to Merlin, who was busy preparing the horses. “Merlin, go fetch some water for our journey,” he ordered, obviously trying to give them some privacy. Merlin didn’t catch on to the hint.

“But we already have—”

“ _Merlin,_ ” he stated, a pointed look in his eyes. “Just do as I ask.”

Merlin looked between them, realizing now what Arthur was asking. “Right, of course,” he said, understanding. He made his way back into the castle and Arthur turned to Morgana, an apprehensive look on his face. He obviously did not wish to go against his father, but it seemed he did realize that Morgana had a right to know.

Arthur took a deep breath, hoping he didn’t regret speaking to her about this. “My Father believes your friend is a sorceress.” Morgana held her breath for a moment, her fear of the worst coming true. Arthur hesitated for a moment before finishing with, “A very specific one, actually.”

Morgana’s expression turned puzzled. “A specific one?” she repeated, confused by the Prince’s words. How would Uther know who Morgause was before she got here? 

“There, uh…” Arthur stumbled, trying to think of how to word his explanation. Morgana knew that meant she wouldn’t be getting the whole story, but she would deal with that afterwards. “When the Great Purge happened, a few magickal children were smuggled out of Camelot,” Arthur explained. “One of them was named Morgause. Father has been expecting her to return for some time now, it seems.”

Morgana waited for him to continue, but that seemed to be the only thing she was getting out of him. She looked at him disbelievingly. “So this is all because she bears the same name as a sorceress who was in Camelot over _fifteen_ years ago? That’s ridiculous, Arthur! There must be dozens of women with her name. How can Uther hold her like this? This isn’t just!”

“It’ll be fine, Morgana,” Arthur tried to reassure her, but Morgana feared it would be anything but. Even if Morgause wasn’t the child who was smuggled out of here years ago, she was still a sorceress. “I’m heading to Mercia to verify your friend’s story. If what she says about herself is true, my Father will free her. I promise you.”

That’s what Morgana was afraid of. If she was a betting woman, she would put money on the fact that Morgause did not come from Mercia. She was a highly skilled sorceress; she must have come from somewhere that would allow her to be trained and Morgana _knew_ that was not the farmland kingdom that lied east of Camelot.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” she said, noting how Arthur could barely look her in the eye. Despite his arrogance, which could drive Morgana crazy sometimes, Arthur had always been an honest man and she admired that about him. It was obvious that he felt uncomfortable being anything but what he was, but his loyalty to his father made things difficult for him sometimes. “Why is it that the King expected this other Morgause to return to Camelot, and not just any of the sorcerers?”

Arthur looked uncomfortable. “No, I didn’t mean—”

“I heard what you said,” Morgana told him flatly. She didn’t want him backpedaling out of this. “If Uther had been expecting any one of them to return, you would have said ‘them.’ Instead you said ‘her.’ Why?”

Arthur shifted his weight between his feet. He lost eye contact with her, staring at his feet. He sighed apologetically. “I’m sorry, Morgana. Despite my personal feelings on that matter, that is one thing I cannot tell you.”

Although Morgana wished to know more, she didn’t want to push him. Already he could get into trouble with his father for telling her what he had and Morgana didn’t want to seem ungrateful. It was probably the most she was going to get out of anyone anyway, save Morgause herself. 

“I need to see her.”

Arthur let out a heavy breath, knowing that was coming. “No one is supposed to see the prisoners, you know that. You’re going to get yourself into trouble.”

“I don’t care,” Morgana told him firmly. What was Uther going to do, yell at her? She’d been yelled at plenty times before, she could handle it. “Please, Arthur, I just wish to speak with her. She’s down there all alone, imprisoned in a strange city for a crime she did not commit; she deserves to see a friendly face.”

Arthur rubbed his temples, beginning to get a headache. “I’m not going to give you my key, if that’s what you’re asking for.”

“I’m not trying to free her, Arthur; I just want to speak with her. We can do that through iron bars.”

Arthur knew she was not going to give up until she got what she wanted and he sighed. His gaze shifted for a moment, as if trying to assess that they were really alone. “Do you promise you won’t do anything stupid?” he asked, trying to help her but afraid of sticking his neck out too far. “Because if something happens while you’re down there, hell will rain down on my head and I won’t hesitate to throw you under the wagon with me.”

That was fair. Morgana would probably do the same thing if the positions were reversed. “I _promise,_ ” she stressed, needing him to know that she would not betray his trust like that.

Arthur still looked a little uncomfortable with the decision, but relented. “Alright. Before I leave I’ll speak with the night guard and tell him to let you pass. But you must not be seen by anyone else, do you understand? If it gets back to my Father…”

“I understand, Arthur,” Morgana replied, smiling gratefully for his help. “Thank you.”

She caught sight of Merlin heading out of the castle in her peripheral, so Morgana lowered her head a little in acknowledgement. “I’ll leave you to your business,” she told Arthur before turning around, making her way back inside. She breathed a sigh of relief, glad that she was going to have a way to see Morgause. If Arthur hadn’t helped her then she would have had to find a way to sneak past the guard and well, Morgana was anything but stealthy. Because of that she was a bit worried that she would be unable to keep her visit a secret from Uther, but she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

For now, she just needed answers, and Morgause was the only way Morgana knew how to get them.

[x]

Morgause sat in the corner of her cell, her back pressed against the cold stone wall with her knees pulled to her chest. The ground beneath her was hard and unforgiving, providing her with little comfort during the long hours of solitude. There was a distinct chill in the air that made Morgause shiver in her silken dress, the beauty that it once was starting to become unrecognizable with small tears and dirt stains. Her back ached from the blows she was dealt, but she would not risk healing herself whilst she was a captive; if anyone should see, her life would be forfeit. So she suffered in silence, finding it better not to use her magick until she was ready to escape.

Morgause had no idea what time of day it was, as the dungeons were provided with no outside light. It was like a tomb; even the air smelled of death and sorrow. A ways down from her cell she could hear a man praying to his God, asking for forgiveness. Morgause had overheard one of the guards saying that he would be hung come morning and the blonde felt for the man; even in his last hours, no one had come to say their final goodbyes.

He would die unloved and alone.

Footsteps echoed through the dungeon and Morgause rose to her feet, wondering if the guards were coming round with dinner. She was terribly hungry. Though she had been given half a loaf of bread earlier in the day, it was not enough to sate her. But perhaps that was the point; it would not do to have their prisoners strong, after all. Morgause could already feel her magick start to weaken from her mistreatment and it worried her, for if the time came when she needed to flee and she found she could not escape, she would be done for.

Then, like a ray of hope from the Goddess herself, Morgana appeared; bathed in the dim light of the torch that hung outside of her cell, her presence was a vision Morgause had been praying for. She ran to her, fingers curling around her sister’s hand that clung tight to the wrought iron bars of her prison. “Morgana,” she breathed, happier than words could ever hope to express. “I feared I would never see you again.”

Seeing Morgause in such a predicament made tears well up in the Ward’s eyes. She reached through the bars, gently caressing her face. “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice strained as she tried not to openly weep for her. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you.”

“It’s not your fault,” Morgause assured her, turning her face to kiss her sister’s palm. Everything she had gone through seemed to fade away in an instant at Morgana’s touch. It healed her better than any spell could dare to hope for. 

“I don’t have long,” Morgana told her regrettably. “If Uther was to find me down here, he would not wait for Arthur to return. His anger alone would condemn you.” Morgause nodded, understanding. She had not expected that Morgana had come to her with Uther’s permission; he was too afraid that Morgause would tell her the truth.

“But please, answer me one thing,” Morgana requested, her eyes searching the blonde’s face. “Will Arthur find that you spoke truth when he reaches Mercia?”

Morgause pursed her lips, sympathy in her eyes. “No,” she told her softly. She saw Morgana’s face fall; she knew that meant that she would never be freed. “I’m sorry I lied, Morgana, but it was for my own safety.” She sighed softly, motioning at the space around her before she finished, “Although I guess we can see how well that worked out in the end.”

“Are you, then?” Morgana asked softly, needing to know. “The woman Uther thinks you are?”

Morgause held her breath. She wasn’t sure what Morgana knew, but she knew she had to be honest with her. “Yes,” she confirmed quietly, running her fingertips softly over her sister’s that clung to one of the bars. She wondered if she would pull away from her.

She didn’t. 

“You were born here?” Morgana questioned, watching Morgause’s fingers dust across hers for a moment. Perhaps she didn’t know the whole truth after all, something Morgause was thankful for. She wanted to be able to tell her sister on her own terms, not Uther’s. Green eyes met brown as Morgana looked up at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Morgause couldn’t meet her gaze. She shrugged and leaned against the bars, staring at the ground. “It was a long time ago; I didn’t think it was important.”

Morgana pursed her lips, deciding that it would probably be better if she didn’t pry into that topic anymore. The Great Purge was a painful time for a lot of sorcerers and their families and she probably didn’t want to rehash that, out of respect. Morgause was grateful. “You never told me,” Morgana began after a moment, “what it was you came here for.” The subject clearly pained her as her voice caught in her throat and her gaze was quickly averted. Morgause didn’t blame her; it was the topic that revolved around her leaving.

But Morgause wanted her to know that it didn’t mean leaving _her,_ so she finally told her the truth. “You, Morgana,” It was said softly, but Morgana heard it loud and clear. “I came here for you.” That caught the Ward’s attention and she looked up at her, surprised.

“Me?”

Morgause nodded.

Morgana stared at her for a moment before realization dawned on her face. Unfortunately, it was not the happy one that Morgause was hoping for; instead she looked scorned. “You _knew_ didn’t you?” Morgana accused, taking a few steps back from her. “You knew and you never told me! How could you? Do you even understand how frightened I was yesterday? I had no idea what was happening; I thought I caught it from _you!_ Like you touching me made me…!” Morgana couldn’t even say the word; it stuck in her throat and instead she shook her head disbelievingly. She was probably better off that way though; Morgana was shouting rather loudly and if anyone heard they would both be dead.

Morgause was not expecting this kind of reaction and despite how upset she was that she received it, she tried to stay calm. She knew she was the one to blame, after all. There were probably a lot of things she should have told her sister, yet her own fear made it difficult to voice out loud. “It’s not a sickness, Morgana,” she tried to explain, but was cut off before she could say anymore.

“That’s not the point!”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Morgause conceded. She felt awful; she was supposed to be there when her sister’s powers emerged and she wasn’t. Morgana must have been so frightened, to have grown up in a place such as Camelot and then find that she was everything this kingdom hated. “I didn’t tell you because I thought you wouldn’t believe me. I was a stranger; what credibility would my claims have? You would have thought me mad.”

Morgana was pacing back and forth in front of her sister’s cell, running her fingers through her tussled hair. She didn’t comment on what Morgause said, which probably meant that she had a point and Morgana didn’t want to admit to it. Instead she asked, “So, what, you came to Camelot with the expectation that you could just… _take me away with you?_ ” The way she said it made it sound ridiculous and perhaps it was, a perfect stranger coming there to rip her away from everything she had ever known.

Morgause colored in shame, hating how presumptuous the whole thing was. “I had hoped, yes,” she admitted, voice small. “You weren’t safe here; I was trying to protect you. I wanted to give you a chance to survive.” She could stand trial in front of the ruthless Uther Pendragon, but it seemed she caved quickly when put against her sister’s scrutinizing questions. It got worse when Morgana stepped back into the torch’s faint glow and Morgause could see that her eyes were swimming with fresh tears.

“Why, because your kind is so few already? Am I just another _number_ to you, Morgause?” The accusation burned a hole in Morgause’s heart. Morgana looked terribly distressed as she drew to a conclusion that couldn’t be farther from the truth, “Is that all this was then; a cheap manipulation, to get me to trust you, to get me to leave with you?”

“No!” Morgause exclaimed quickly, her hands holding firm to the bars as she pushed herself as close as she could get to Morgana. It wasn’t very far, since her sister had taken a step backwards to hide in the shadows; she didn’t want Morgause to see her cry. It broke the sorceress’s heart in half. “What I feel for you is real, Morgana, please believe me! You’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever met, and sometimes I feel that I’d surely die should I ever find myself without you. I couldn’t bear it.”

Morgana did not move. Morgause heard a faint sniffle as her sister tried to control her own emotions. She wished more than anything that she could wrap Morgana up in her arms, kiss her and show her that what she felt could never be a trick. It was far too intense to ever be anything other than genuine. It took a few moments, but finally Morgana spoke.

“I’m scared.”

Her words were barely above a whisper, but the emotion behind them screamed volumes to Morgause. “I know,” she said sympathetically. How could her sister be anything but? She had to choose between everything she had ever known, and saving her life. Because if Morgana stayed here it would only be a matter of time before she was found out; magick was so very hard to control if one was untrained.

Morgana stepped from the shadows. Her eyes were reddened and she had her arms wrapped around herself, as though she were trying to protect herself from the reality of the choice she had to make. “Where would we go?” she whispered finally, her vulnerability making her look so much younger than her years.

“To my home, on the Isle of the Blessed; it’s the only place we can truly be safe. You’ll be taken care of, Morgana, I promise you.”

Morgana bit the inside of her cheek as another tear fell from her eye. “I don’t want to leave Gwen,” she told her softly. “She’s my dearest friend; it would tear me up inside if I could never see her again.”

“Then ask her to go with us,” Morgause answered. After seeing how close the two of them were, she had been expecting this. She didn’t mind; she liked Gwen and if separating them would do more hurt than good, she was glad to take her back with them. Besides, after Morgana left it was likely that Gwen would be questioned and Morgause would not want to put her through such an ordeal.

Morgana looked grateful that she didn’t mind, but her face suddenly turned distressed once more. “Why are we even speaking of this?” she asked, sounding terribly defeated. “I don’t even know how I’m going to get you out of here yet. I don’t even know if I can…!”

“Shh, love,” Morgause hushed, reaching through the bars to grasp her hand firmly. “Don’t worry about that, alright? I’m more than capable of handling this myself.” At least she hoped she was.

Morgause knew that she should have mastered that relocation spell before she came; it would have made this so much easier. However the farthest she had ever traveled was about twenty meters, and she _still_ managed to leave her clothes behind half the time, so no, that really wouldn’t do her well in this situation. She had other ways though; they wouldn’t be stealthy by any means, but they would still be effective and that was all that mattered in the end.

“Just start packing your things,” Morgause told her, running her thumb over the back of her sister’s hand. She smiled at her. “I’ll meet you at the stables tomorrow at nightfall.” She wished Morgana would return her smile, yet she understood why she couldn’t. This was such a big change for her and it was obviously very frightening. Morgause just hoped that when the time came she could help make the transition a little easier.

Morgana’s gaze fell to the ground, but she nodded slowly. She squeezed Morgause’s hand before backing up a few steps. “I’ve been here too long,” she told her regrettably. “But do you promise?” Morgana asked, looking back up at Morgause, fear and doubt swimming behind her emerald eyes. “That you’ll be there tomorrow?”

“You have my word.”

Despite the conviction in her voice, Morgause knew that she would still have to pray to the Gods for a miracle in order to keep it. This wasn’t going to be easy.

**TBC…**


	12. Escape from Camelot

**CHAPTER XII  
Escape from Camelot**

_“I can’t.”_

Those two words broke Morgana’s heart. Perhaps she was foolish, to believe Gwen would leave everything that she had ever known behind just to go with her, but she would be lying if she said a part of her didn’t expect that she would. They were the best of friends and Morgana had assumed they would always find themselves together, no matter where they were. Even if she got married off to some cold-hearted king or a pompous prince, Morgana knew that Gwen would go with her, not just because she was her handmaiden, but because she was her friend. Morgana had foolishly assumed the situation would be the same even though she was now running off to God only knew where, but it seemed it was not. It was too unexpected for her friend; it was too fast. 

Morgana understood Gwen’s reasoning of course, but it was still hard to swallow. She had her father, who would not fare well if Gwen disappeared without a word of goodbye. Perhaps if Morgana had given her more notice she would have come with her, but if they didn’t act now then Morgause’s life was forfeit. 

Arthur had come back earlier that evening with the news that no one had ever heard of Morgause in Mercia and Morgana didn’t have to be told that shortly afterwards Uther had sentenced her to death. Lying was enough of a crime and when it came to suspected sorcery, the King would rather be safe than sorry. She was probably condemned to the flames come morning and Morgana’s anxiety rose up in her chest, hoping that Morgause was speaking truth when she said she could free herself. 

The air held a bitter chill and Morgana wrapped her cloak tighter around her shoulders, leaning against the horse she had chosen for their journey. The heat from the animal seemed to help, albeit only slightly. Autumn was on the horizon, seemingly coming much sooner than anyone expected. It made Morgana fear the long winter that would soon follow, as she was unsure if Morgause’s people prepared for it as well as Camelot did. She did not want to starve. That is, if they ever made it out of here alive.

Morgana heard footsteps coming nearer and fear began to rise up in her chest. If it was a guard she would surely be done for. She quickly melted into the shadows, crouched into a ball behind the steed she had prepared. It only took her a moment to realize that was probably a foolish thing to do, as any guard would be suspicious as to why a horse was saddled up for a long journey, but it was too late to move. The footsteps grew nearer and Morgana’s heart leapt into her throat. She tried to keep still.

“My Lady?”

The words were said in a hushed whisper, but Morgana heard them loud and clear. She breathed a sigh of relief; it was only Gwen. She quickly rose to her feet, stepping out from behind the steed to set her sights on her handmaiden. A smile broke out across her face and she moved to her, wrapping her up in a tight embrace. “Gwen, I’m so glad it’s you!”

Gwen held onto her fiercely. “I wanted to see you off,” she told her, emotion in her voice as she had to say goodbye to the only true friend she had ever known. When they pulled away from each other they clasped each other’s hands and Gwen asked, “When is Morgause coming?”

Morgana shrugged, looking distressed over the question. “I don’t know; she said nightfall but it’s been quite awhile. I’m afraid she overestimated her ability to escape. I don’t know what I’m going to do if she doesn’t come.”

Gwen’s expression turned sympathetic and she tightened her grip reassuringly. “I’m sure she’ll be here,” she told her, wishing to calm her anxiety. It was a futile task. Morgana had never been more scared in all her life; she was afraid that even if Morgause did come that they would never make it outside of the gates of Camelot. 

Morgana’s gaze met the ground and her throat constricted with emotion. Gwen being here had brought it all back again, her fear being quickly overshadowed by sorrow. “I’m going to miss you,” she whispered, distraught over the way things had worked themselves out. Morgana wished more than anything that she did not have to leave, but Morgause was right; this would give her a chance to survive. Uther might look at her like a daughter sometimes, but that would change in an instant once he found out who she really was. 

“We’ll see each other again,” Gwen promised, trying to comfort her even though it was written clearly across her face that this was tearing her up inside as well. “When you’re gone I’ll no longer be needed as a maidservant; maybe I can become my father’s apprentice, help him out enough to feel like he’ll be well enough on his own should I leave him.”

Morgana looked hopeful at those words. “Should you leave him?” she questioned, praying that Gwen meant what she thought she did. If her friend could follow her sometime in the future, that would make things so much easier, just knowing that Gwen would be with her again one day.

Gwen gave her a soft smile. “Perhaps, in the spring. It’s not that I don’t wish to go with you, Morgana; I just want to be fair to my father. I want him to be prepared for my leave and able to take care of himself. Mostly I just need to teach him how to cook; the man would starve without me, I swear it.” Despite the heaviness in the air, both girls giggled. It lifted Morgana’s spirits significantly.

“I would love it if you came,” she told her passionately, meaning every word. “I would feel empty without your light in my life, Guinevere. You’re my dearest friend in this world.”

“One day I’ll find you,” Gwen told her, her promise making Morgana’s heart swell with happiness. “Outside of you and my father, there is nothing tying me to this place. If my father gives me his blessing once winter has passed, I will head out without a second thought. And who knows,” she continued, her smile faltering for a moment as she was reminded of something painful, “Maybe once I’m outside of Camelot’s gates, I might hear word of my brother.”

Morgana’s heart saddened for her friend. Gwen’s older brother, Elyan, had left Camelot a few years ago and had not been heard of since. Morgana knew that Gwen feared that he was dead, but she still kept hope in her heart that one day she would find him. Morgana hoped that was true; Gwen had taken it very hard when he left, as they were very close when they were younger.

“I promise you, if I hear even a whisper about him while I’m gone I’ll send word to you right away,” Morgana said, knowing how important it was to her that Elyan be found. Gwen smiled at her in thanks.

A faint _boom_ was heard in the distance, sounding as though it came from the castle. Morgana’s heart leapt into her throat, hoping that didn’t come from Morgause; the sound would attract far too much attention. If she had to guess, it sounded as though Morgause blew her cell door off its hinges. She prayed that was not what it was though; that was a far cry from subtle and all of Camelot’s guards would swarm her in a second.

“Do you think that was…?” Gwen started to ask, but was interrupted by the sound of the warning bell echoing through the city. The two girls shared an equal look of worry; that was most definitely Morgause and that meant that sneaking out was impossible. They would have to fight their way out of the city and Morgana didn’t know the first thing about fighting. She began to grow terrified.

The chances of them actually pulling this off were getting slimmer by the moment.

“Go!” Gwen encouraged, pushing Morgana over towards the horse. She knew that once Morgause actually got to them, there would be little time; Morgana should already be prepared to ride. But fear seemed to have paralyzed her for a moment and the Ward couldn’t move. “Morgana, _go!_ ”

One hard push pulled Morgana out of her haze and she turned, enveloping Gwen in a brief, yet fierce hug. “Be careful,” she told her, voice frantic. “If Uther finds out you helped us escape he’ll have your head.”

“I know,” Gwen said, sounding frightened by the prospect. She still held her ground though, not wanting to leave Morgana by herself just yet. “Now go, you don’t have much time!”

Morgana nodded, trying to be brave as she turned back towards the horse. She mounted it and immediately squeezed the horse’s sides with her legs, encouraging it to move outside the stable doors. Her heart was beating erratically in her chest and she looked behind her, meeting Gwen’s eye. An overwhelming sadness rose from within her as she realized this was the last time she would see her friend in quite awhile. “Go home,” she told her, voice catching in her throat. “You need to be far away from here when she comes, _please._ I can’t do this and worry about you too!”

But it was too late. Morgana heard shouting in the distance and looked towards the castle, seeing Morgause emerge from it. She was followed by two heavily armed guards. 

“Hide!” Morgana exclaimed, not wanting anyone to see Gwen with her. She would be blamed in an instant. Gwen didn’t hesitate, quickly running into one of the stalls and melting into the shadows. Morgana prayed she would not be caught there, but she didn’t have much time to think about it. 

There were loud cries as Morgause had stopped momentarily to turn around, holding out her hand as she blew the guards backwards with extreme force. They landed on the ground in a heap, but just as Morgause turned back around to head towards Morgana, three of Camelot’s knights emerged from the castle, led by Arthur. Fearing that this was going to become a bloodbath, Morgana quickly brought the horse to a heavy trot so she could meet the blonde halfway.

“Morgause!” she cried out, extending her hand for her as she drew closer. “Come on!” She hoped to just grab hold of her and pull the sorceress up behind her on the steed, but a large rumble made her horse stop short. Morgana nearly got bucked off when the horse reared up on his hind legs, frightened as a large crack started to form in the ground separating them and Camelot’s knights. Morgana held on for dear life as she let out a startled scream. Her cries were echoed by the knights as they had to stop short in their pursuit so they wouldn’t find themselves tumbling into the deep crevice in the earth.

The horse was still frightened and Morgana was having a hard time controlling it. Morgause seemed to realize this and turned around, assessing the situation for a moment before placing her hand on the steed’s snout. Her eyes glowed gold as she whispered, “ _Mitigandae._ ” The horse was calm within moments and Morgana stared at her wide-eyed. Her attention was quickly diverted though.

“Go around it,” Arthur ordered his knights, and two of his men, each followed by a guard, went in opposite directions trying find the end of the crevice so they could come around and corner them from the back. His gaze met Morgana’s and her stomach dropped, hating the look of disappointment she saw in his eyes. “Morgana, please,” he pleaded with her, “Don’t do this.”

As Morgause mounted the horse – in front of her, thankfully, as Morgana was unsure she would be able to ride under such strenuous circumstances – she gave Arthur an apologetic look. “I’m sorry,” she told him, meaning every word. She did not wish to hurt him in all of this, but she needed to do what was necessary to survive. “But I have to.”

“You can’t come back from this!”

Morgana wrapped her arms tightly around Morgause’s waist as she turned the horse away from the crack in the earth, about to head off in a different direction. The Ward looked back at the only brother she had ever known and told him softly, her voice full of despair and honesty, “I don’t want to.”

“Don’t look for us,” Morgause told him, warning in her tone. “She is not yours, Arthur Pendragon. She never was.” She didn’t give the prince a chance to respond before she clicked her tongue, squeezing her thighs into the steed as they started to gallop back towards the stables, finding an alternate route to the gates that separated Camelot with the rest of the world.

“Where’s Gwen?” Morgause asked over her shoulder, assuming she was waiting for them somewhere. Sadness enveloped Morgana’s soul once more.

“She’s not—”

But she didn’t get to finish her sentence. A scream was heard behind them once they passed the stables and Morgana quickly yelled, “Stop!” Morgause pulled on the reins, halting the horse in its tracks. Morgana looked behind her, fear in her heart as she heard her name being shouted. It was Gwen.

One of the guards seemed to have found her hiding in the stables, having gone through it to find a way around the deep crevice in the ground. He had pulled her outside and Gwen was struggling against his grip as the knights began to swarm them, getting nearer every second. 

A fear like Morgana had never known before rose up in her and she screamed, “Gwen!” as her control began to unravel. She felt so overwhelmed, so trapped, so damn frightened that her body reacted on instinct. Morgana knew what was coming and she didn’t even bother trying to stop it. She cried out, reaching out to her in the vain hope that her powers would somehow manifest by pulling Gwen towards them. They didn’t. 

Instead, the stables erupted in flames.

[x]

Chaos broke out around them.

The knights seemed torn about whether their first priority should be saving their horses or capturing the prisoners. It was Arthur, who had finally caught up to them, who made that call. “Get the horses out!” he shouted, knowing they had a lot more to lose on that end. Three knights ran into the burning building without a second thought, freeing the trapped animals. Morgause would’ve been proud of her sister for such a distraction if she hadn’t known that she didn’t do it on purpose.

“We have to go back!” Morgana shouted desperately, furiously tugging at Morgause’s tattered dress. Her breathing was erratic, her eyes wild with fear for her friend. “We can’t leave her!” She tried to dismount the horse but Morgause gripped her wrist fiercely, making sure she didn’t go anywhere.

“If we go back there all three of us will end up dead! We have to go _now,_ Morgana, while they’re still distracted!” Morgause hated the words coming from her mouth, but they had to be rational. There was no way they could ride directly into the crowd of knights and rescue Gwen; they were severely outnumbered and Morgana still did not know how to control her power. They were at a disadvantage should they opt for a full assault.

“I won’t leave her!” Morgana screamed at her, fire in her eyes as she stared down Morgause. “They’ll kill her for helping us!”

“No, they won’t; they’ll use her as leverage,” Morgause told her strongly, sure of her own words. Everyone in Camelot knew how much Gwen meant to Morgana. It would be a tactical advantage for them to use her as bait. Uther Pendragon hated to lose; Morgause knew he would make it his personal goal to destroy her for taking away his Ward, and the best way to do that would be to force them to come back and do battle on _his_ terms. He would never get to them otherwise. 

Morgause welcomed that challenge, but she couldn’t do it right now. They would be slaughtered should they try.

“I’m sorry,” she told her sister, meaning every word to the fullest extent. Morgause hated doing this, but it was the only way. “But we have to go, _now._ ” 

She kept her grip tight on Morgana’s wrist and pulled her closer before riding off, worry constricting in her throat as she saw Arthur and a few of his knights frantically trying to saddle the freed animals so they could go after them. They shouldn’t have stalled so long; it might be their undoing. They still had the gates to deal with, which would surely be closed after the warning bell sounded.

Morgana had started to cry behind her and it broke Morgause’s heart, but there was nothing she could do about it now. She would sate her fears later, promise her that they would rescue Gwen when they were more prepared, but first they had to escape. 

When they reached the entrance to the city, Morgause had to stop short, being blocked by not only an iron gate but four guards and two knights. Her grip tightened on Morgana as she started to become afraid that they might not make it out. She didn’t think she could take on all six of them; she was good, but she couldn’t work miracles. “Get out your dagger,” she told her sister, knowing she probably couldn’t rely on her for the magickal aspect of this fight. “If anyone gets close enough to the horse, slit their throat.”

Morgana looked horrified. “I can’t—!”

“In the name of Camelot, I order you to surrender!” one knight demanded, unsheathing his sword. The others followed suit. 

“It’s them or us!” Morgause shouted, needing Morgana to realize the reality of the situation. She had never killed a man before either, but they had to do what was necessary. There was no way they could get past six of them without bloodshed. “Now do as I ask!”

Morgana’s hands were shaking, but she slipped her hand up her cloak and unsheathed the dagger Morgause had given her from its holster. Morgause turned towards their assailants, a dangerous look in her eye. She held out her hand, feeling the power course through her as she lifted the knight who dared tell them to surrender up off the ground in an invisible choke hold. His eyes bulged as he gasped for breath.

“If you wish to live, open the gates!” she shouted at them. Her threat didn’t work, but Morgause would have been foolish to expect that it would. The other knight shouted something at the guards and they began to barrel towards them, swords raised.

Morgause swore loudly, dropping the other knight from the hold she had. She couldn’t split her attention; she wasn’t yet skilled enough. The knight fell on the ground, unconscious from the lack of air he was permitted during Morgause’s spell. Morgana was trembling behind her as the guards approached and Morgause used all of the rage she had in her for anyone _daring_ to frighten her sister in such a way. Her anger gave her strength and as she felt her eyes change and the magick burn hot in her veins she hissed, “ _Incaendefacio!_ ”

One of the guards became engulfed in flames and he screamed, staggering backwards to hit another guard. The second one ignited and they shouted in fear as they desperately tried to put themselves out. The second one might have a chance, but the first one would be dead within moments; he was akin to a human torch. Morgause didn’t have a chance to see if her theory were true though; there were still two more guards and a knight heading towards them. 

But just as she was about to call upon the earth to swallow them whole, one of the guards reached them. His sword left a deep abrasion in Morgause’s arm and she cried out, her attention being diverted from her spell. “ _No!_ ” Morgana screamed as she erratically lashed out with her dagger, but she was too uncoordinated in her haste for it to meet flesh. Not that it mattered; her fear for her sister erupted inside of her and all three of the guards were blown backwards with such force that it seemed the ground itself seemed to shake at the impact they made. The guard that had cut Morgause flew into the remaining knight, being impaled on his sword as they both went down.

Morgana cried out at her unexpected power and held tight to Morgause, her breathing labored with fear. Morgause wished she had time to calm her but with all six of them down momentarily, she had to act. She tried to ignore the pain shooting down her arm as she dismounted the horse, running over to the gate’s mechanism. Morgana shouted for her, afraid of being left on her own. Morgause prayed her sister’s fear would protect her; there was nothing else she could do. One of them had to open it.

The lever that raised the gate was heavy; much too heavy for someone of Morgause’s strength. She tried to focus as she hissed, “ _Da mihi virtutem!_ ” The spell wasn’t as powerful as she would have liked due to being wounded, but as she pulled on the lever it still did the job. But just as she turned to head back to Morgana, she saw one of the knights get up in her peripheral. As she turned, her heart leapt into her throat as she saw Arthur and three more of his knights coming towards them from the south. She reached out, shouting in Latin to disarm the knight closest to them. His sword was ripped from his grasp and Morgause was hoping it would come to her, but her injury was affecting her magick and instead it flew past her to be imbedded in a barrel of ale. The contents poured out around its blade.

Morgause knew she didn’t have time to go back for it so she ran towards Morgana, a spell falling from her lips as she threw her hand down towards the earth. When it hit the surface the ground began to rumble, knocking down the knight that was closest to them and scaring the horses Arthur and his other knights were astride. Morgause was lucky she had to enchant their horse beforehand. otherwise this plan would have backfired quite catastrophically. If Morgana had been bucked off, she could have been seriously injured. As it was, only Arthur had managed to stay astride his steed, but he was holding on to the reins tightly in a vain attempt to control it.

Morgana extended her hand once Morgause had reached her, helping her back onto the horse. Morgause cried out in pain as it was her injured arm that Morgana had taken, but before Morgana lost sight over what was important, Morgause shouted, “I’m fine, hold on!” She forcefully pulled one of her sister’s arms around her waist and Morgana followed suit of her own accord before Morgause brought their horse to a gallop, riding out of Camelot as fast as she could get the animal to go.

She breathed a sigh of relief as they entered the forests, as it provided them with much better cover. Morgause knew it wasn’t over though. Arthur and his knights would come after them as soon as they were able; it wasn’t in the Pendragon nature to give up and with Morgause injured and Morgana unable to control her magick, their chances of taking them on again and surviving were getting slimmer. 

They needed a plan, and _fast._

**TBC…**


	13. A Safe Haven

**CHAPTER XIII  
A Safe Haven**

Pain was radiating down Morgause’s left arm, making the task of holding tight to the reins a fairly difficult one. She wished they had a moment to rest so she could heal herself, but they both knew they didn’t have time. Arthur and his men weren’t far behind them and if they had any hope of getting out of this unscathed, they had to keep moving. Still, Morgause didn’t know how much longer she could do this.

She was breathing heavily as she tried to endure the pain, but even so Morgause could tell the horse was slowing because she couldn’t keep a handle on it. If they wished to move forward, they would have to switch positions. “Morgana,” she called back to her, voice hoarse from all the screaming she had done whilst in Camelot, “I need you to take the reins. My arm…”

Morgause brought the horse to a stop, looking behind her. Her sister looked positively scarred from the ordeal they had been through, that they were _still_ going through, and Morgause wished she didn’t have to ask this of her. It was clear Morgana was having a difficult time handling this emotionally. “But I…” Morgana started, looking behind them momentarily to make sure Arthur wasn’t coming up from behind them. “I don’t… I don’t know where we’re going…” Her voice was so small, so scared. It broke Morgause’s heart that she did not have time to comfort her now.

“The Druid’s camp,” Morgause told her, knowing that would be the safest place for them; the Druids had ways of concealing themselves to those who did not have magick. “Just keep riding west. I’ll direct you.”

Morgana hesitated and Morgause cupped her cheek, trying to offer her a sense of comfort, no matter how small the gesture. “Morgana, please,” she whispered, a pleading gaze in her eyes. “I cannot ride like this any longer. They’ll catch up to us if you don’t. I want to keep you safe and to do that we have to keep moving.”

Morgana still looked frightened, but Morgause knew that was to be expected. Regardless, her sister finally nodded. Morgause gave her a soft smile before leaning in, kissing her gently on the lips with gratitude. “Thank you.”

Morgana dismounted the horse to allow Morgause the room to move backwards before she resituated herself in front of her. Morgause put her good arm around her, holding her tight. She pointed towards the direction of the camp as she told her, “That way. Hurry, even stopping for a moment has cost us precious time.” 

Morgana did not hesitate this time and they rode through the forest, nothing but the soft light of the moon illuminating their path to safety. The last time Morgause navigated this route she had been on foot and it had taken days. Though the time shortened considerably with the help of their steed, the knowledge that the knights of Camelot were not far behind them made the journey feel just as long. 

When they reached the camp the sun was beginning to rise in the east, bathing the sky in brilliant orange and yellow hues. Both women were exhausted and the pain in Morgause’s arm was getting progressively worse, but she forced herself to stay aware just for a little bit longer. 

The Druids gathered in front of them, curious about who had entered their camp. Morgause saw their leader, Aglain, weave his way through the crowd to greet them. When his eyes landed on Morgause, he smiled in recognition. “Morgause,” he said, voice warm with kindness. “I had not expected you back so soon. You and your friend are most welcome.”

“Thank you, Aglain,” Morgause replied graciously. He was one of the most kindhearted men she had ever had the pleasure of meeting and she was glad to see him again. “But we must speak before you offer us welcome; I’m afraid we bring a heavy burden with us and I do not wish to leave you unprepared.”

Aglain looked concerned, but answered, “Of course. Come, we’ll speak in my tent.” 

Morgana dismounted the steed before extending her hand to help Morgause. Her eyes flickered to her wound on her arm, worry shining behind her emerald eyes at the amount of blood that covered her skin. Morgause did not wish her to be concerned over such a trivial matter, not when they had larger problems at hand, but she knew better than to try to downplay it; if the positions were reversed, she would feel the same way.

They followed Aglain back through the crowd of Druids and entered his tent. “Sit,” he offered. “You’ve had a long journey and your wound needs attending to.” Morgause started to protest, as she could heal herself once she had a proper night’s rest, but Aglain would hear nothing of it. “I insist.”

Morgause smiled softly at his kindness and nodded her head, relenting to his care. She sat with Morgana to her right as Aglain gathered up his healing herbs. She wasn’t overly fond of being taken care of, especially when she had the means to take care of herself, but Morgause knew the longer she let it stay this way, the worse it would get. Sealing a wound was one thing, but an infection in the blood took a lot longer to heal. Morgause would have to rest for days and they did not have that kind of time; they had to keep moving.

While Aglain prepared the ingredients he needed, Morgause allowed herself a moment to take in her surroundings. Almost immediately her gaze landed on a large gold chalice in the far right corner of the tent, half buried under a pile of cloth and wool. Morgause furrowed her eyebrows; the possession seemed so very out of place in the Druid camp. They were simple people, living off the land; owning something of so much value seemed strange to Morgause, as they had always come off as rather self-sufficient. More than that though, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the back of her mind that she recognized the chalice. But before Morgause could dwell on it, Aglain crossed the room to tend to her wounds.

The Druid knelt down beside her and began to wipe the blood from her arm with a wet cloth. Morgause winced at the pain and bit down on the inside of her cheek so she did not cry out. She was unsure of how deep the gouge went and she hoped the sword didn’t knick her bone, as that could cause complications during the healing process. And the last thing Morgause needed right now were any more problems.

“The Knights of Camelot are looking for us,” Morgause told Aglain, needing him to be completely aware of the situation. “I have the King’s Ward; they will not take our departure lightly. I expect that Uther will have them continue to hunt us until all leads have been exhausted. I need you to understand that sheltering us could prove to be very dangerous, should you allow it.”

Aglain glanced between the two women, though his gaze lingered longer on Morgana. “If you kidnapped her, I will not condone it.” Morgause wouldn’t expect otherwise, but thankfully that was not the case.

“I came willingly,” Morgana assured him, running her hands nervously over the creases in her cloak. “Camelot is no longer safe for me and I…” But she couldn’t finish her sentence. She choked up with emotion and Morgause placed a comforting hand on her thigh, trying to show her that it would be alright. It must be so overwhelming for her, to have everything she had ever known change in an instant. It seemed that it was finally hitting Morgana that there truly was no going back now; she made her decision and despite it being more difficult than anything she had ever had to bear, she would have to live with it. 

“You have magick?” Aglain questioned. Morgana nodded silently as she clasped Morgause’s hand, holding on to the only thing she had left in this moment.

“Her powers were bound,” Morgause explained, as Aglain was no doubt wondering why she hadn’t been discovered sooner. “They only emerged a few days ago. You know how dangerous magick can be when it’s untrained, Aglain; I could not leave her alone. Not there; that city is a death sentence on our kind.”

Aglain looked understanding and nodded before reaching for a bowl containing a thick brown paste. After muttering a few words of healing, he began to cover Morgause’s wound with the bowl’s contents. “I would never expect you to,” he told her. “And I am glad you brought her here. No one of magickal blood should be subjected to the wrath of Uther Pendragon, just for being born different than he. Of course we will offer you shelter; you may stay as long as you wish.”

Morgause smiled with gratitude, relieved that Aglain was open to helping them. Honestly, she was unsure of what they would do if he turned them away. “You have our thanks. We will not forget your kindness.”

Aglain met Morgause’s smile with a small one of his own. “Do not worry about being found here,” he told her. “Unless Uther has knighted someone of magickal blood into his ranks, our camp will not be discovered.” Morgause knew the likelihood of that was slim to none, so it definitely made the Druid camp one of the safest places to be at the moment. “I will set you up with some accommodations as soon as possible. You both must be exhausted; you need rest.”

Morgause nodded in agreement. Her whole body was beginning to feel the weight of her weary limbs now that the adrenaline her body allotted her during their escape was wearing off. A quick glance in Morgana’s direction showed Morgause that she was feeling the same way. Perhaps they would both feel better after they have had a proper night’s rest.

It was not long until the two sisters were brought to another tent. This one was much smaller, only allowing room for sleeping accommodations, but it was more than enough. The ground was covered in an array of furs, allowing them more comfort than the grass alone would have provided. After all that they had gone through, it was a blessing that did not go unacknowledged. Morgause allowed Morgana to settle in first before doing so herself, wanting her sister to find the comfort that she needed in this place. 

Whatever Aglain had put on Morgause’s wound was helping immensely; she could no longer feel any pain and it allowed the haze from her mind to lift. She was still tired, but she didn’t feel like she was about to fall over anymore. After they had both gotten themselves into some clean clothes, Morgause laid down on her back and stretched out, trying to loosen her tight muscles. She had expected Morgana to lie next to her, so she was surprised when the Ward situated herself in the corner with her knees pulled up to her chest. She wouldn’t look at Morgause. 

The blonde sat up, concern crossing her features as she looked at her sister. “Morgana?” she questioned gently. “Come lie down; you need to rest.” She received no response and she furrowed her brow. “Morgana…?” 

“We just _left_ her.” 

Morgana’s voice was a broken whisper, her distress clearly written across her face. Morgause’s heart clenched in her chest; she hated that they had to leave Gwen behind too, but they didn’t have a choice. “We had to,” she whispered, guilt tinting each of her words. “I’m sorry…”

“Sorry doesn’t make it better!” Morgana snapped, turning to look at her so fast that her dark curls tumbled around her face, outlining the self-hatred in her expression. “We could have done something and we _didn’t!_ She could be hanged for treason come tomorrow morning and it’ll be _our_ fault!”

“They wouldn’t—”

_“You don’t know that!”_

That was true. Morgause didn’t know that, but she had to believe that Uther wouldn’t do such a thing. From a tactical standpoint, it would be foolish. Gwen meant a lot to Morgana and she was also Morgause’s friend; if he kept her alive, they would surely come back for her. “Morgana, I promise you that we’ll rescue her as soon as we’re able. But you know as well as I that if we tried to do it then that all three of us would have been killed; leaving her there was the only option we had at the time.”

Morgana’s face reflected that she knew that, but that it didn’t make anything any better. “I never wanted to trade my life for hers,” she said quietly, sounding on the verge of tears. “If she is to be hanged for helping us, I wish to be hanged alongside her. It isn’t right that she should have to pay for our treason.”

“She won’t. Uther would be foolish to do such a thing; he knows how important Gwen is to you. He knows we’ll come back for her,” Morgause tried to assure her, though she knew she couldn’t promise such a thing. At least, not yet. Morgause suddenly had an idea and she looked at Morgana, a thought brewing in the back of her mind. “Or perhaps…” But she paused mid-sentence, trying to figure out if it was a wise idea. It got Morgana’s attention though.

“Perhaps what?”

Morgause chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment before answering. “I could send word to the King,” she started, trying to formulate a plan. “Act as though I am holding you against your will and tell him that if he kills Gwen then your life will be forfeit.”

Morgana looked hopeful for a moment, but it quickly left her as she shook her head. “Arthur knows I came of my own free will; he will surely tell Uther that.”

That was true. Morgause deflated for a moment as she realized her idea wasn’t plausible. She took a moment’s pause, trying to think of another solution. After a few minutes she suggested, “Or _you_ could write to him.”

“And say what?”

Morgause was still mulling this over, but replied, “That you will come back, should he see to it that Gwen is not harmed.” Morgana looked shocked by her suggestion.

“You want me to return?”

“No,” Morgause assured her. That was the last thing she wanted. “But if it guarantees Gwen’s safety, I think it might be best to say that you will. Just tell him that you’re sorry it had to come to this, but you don’t condone his laws against sorcery and that you did not want to see your friend die just for being born differently. Tell him that you thought his ruling was unjust, as I had not done Camelot any grievance; that you didn’t wish to live in a place that could condemn innocent people to death just because they have magick.”

Morgana shook her head again, not believing that Morgause’s plan would work. “But he’ll know I have magick too; I demonstrated that when we escaped and the knights will surely tell him. The last thing he’ll want is sentiments from a sorceress.”

“The only person that was close enough to see that you were the one to cast any spell is now dead,” Morgause told her, speaking of the guard that had wounded her. “Anyone else could easily believe that I had done the rest. Besides, does he not look at you like his own daughter? Uther was the one who raised you; I believe he would want you back above anything else. And even if he doesn’t, even if he is cruel to his very core, he would want a reason to lure you there to be able to hang you for treason. Either way, it would keep Gwen safe until we could get to her.”

Morgana paused, mulling that over for a moment. “Do you truly believe that will work?” she finally asked, realizing that it might very well be the only way to guarantee her friend’s safety. Morgana had hope in her eyes and Morgause prayed that would not be taken from her, for without hope, the fear of what could happen to Gwen would slowly begin to consume her sister’s sanity.

“We need to try,” Morgause answered, knowing that much was true. They had to do _something._ Gwen was their friend and Morgana was right, it wasn’t fair that she may have to pay the ultimate price for their actions. 

Morgana nodded, agreeing that they had to try. Morgause watched her sister look down at her hands and begin to pick at her nails, still looking worried despite having possibly found a solution. Morgause couldn’t blame her, she too was scared for Gwen’s fate, but she had to believe that Uther would not harm her.

“And you promise,” Morgana began, her voice small and vulnerable, “that we will go back for her?”

Morgause placed her hand under her sister’s chin, gently lifting it so that she would be able to look her in the eyes and see the truth behind her gaze. “I promise,” she told her, her voice strong and sure. Morgause was certain she had never meant anything more than the words that now fell from her lips. “Even if it means war, we will rescue her from that place. I swear on my life.”

[x]

The first thing Morgana did when she awoke was write her letter to Uther. She did not want to waste any time, as he may have already sentenced Gwen to die come morning. Morgana tried not to think of that though; she had finally gotten her hand to stop shaking and she didn’t want to make an error and have to start all over again. The sooner she could get the letter sent out, the better she would feel.

“How will we know if he agrees to my proposal?” Morgana asked as she paused during her composition. She wondered how the King would send word back to them without knowing where they are.

Morgause looked up from changing the bandage on her wound. The Druid’s magick seemed to have tended to most of it overnight, but it was wise that she kept it covered until it was completely healed. At the rate it was going though, Morgause would be able to take the bandage off by nightfall. 

It fascinated Morgana; to see how powerful magick truly was, to see the good that it could do. Uther used to speak of it like it corrupted people and made them do truly terrible things, but he couldn’t be more wrong. Yes, there were people out there who would use their magick to hurt others, but there were horrible people of all kinds, not just sorcerers. Any power in the wrong hands would cause devastation, but there were some who wielded their magick in a good and honorable way. It was unfair that many had to pay the price for the destruction of few.

“We can’t, not now,” Morgause told her regrettably. “Though I can enchant a raven to send the message directly to him, I do not know how to conceal its return to us. He could have his knights follow it back. Once we get to the Isle, I’ll have one of the elders enchant another raven so that it will be able to come back to us undetected.”

Horror masked over Morgana’s features, believing Morgause was suggesting that they hold off before sending it. “You wish for me to wait that long? Gwen could be dead by then!”

“No, no,” Morgause quickly assured her, not meaning that in the slightest. “Tell him you’ll send word once you reach your destination, so that the raven will know where to go back to. I’m sure he’ll try to follow it regardless of his answer, but he won’t be able to then. We need to be safe about this, do you understand?” 

Morgana nodded, knowing they couldn’t risk Uther finding out where they were. She was just glad that she wouldn’t have to hold off on sending the letter though; it really could mean whether Gwen lived to see tomorrow’s sunset or not. She turned back to her parchment, finishing up her composition. She prayed Uther would see reason, but with how Morgause presented it, Morgana knew it would be hard for him not to. Whether he wished that Morgana would come back to him or wished her dead, the best way to go about either of those things would be to keep Gwen alive.

When she finished her letter, she quickly handed it over to Morgause. “Come,” the blonde beckoned her, leading her out of the tent. Morgana followed her, knowing that she needed to see with her own eyes that it was sent off. 

Morgause called forth a raven and Morgana watched as it landed on her forearm; it fascinated her that she could summon an untamed bird. Regardless of magick or not, it was impressive. Morgause lightly placed her hand on the bird’s back before commanding, _“Libera eam ad regem.”_ Her eyes flashed gold momentarily and the bird flew from her arm before swooping down, grasping the letter from her hand with its talons. It took off towards Camelot and Morgana watched it go until it was no longer in sight.

Morgana wished she could hear word sooner, as it would make her feel much better should she know Gwen would be safe, but she knew she didn’t have a choice in the matter. For now, she would just have to try to focus on getting to where they needed to go; the sooner they got there, the sooner she would be able to know for sure what Gwen’s fate was. She turned towards Morgause, but it seemed the sorceress knew what she was going to ask before she even opened her mouth.

“Soon,” she promised. “We’ll head out soon. After we wash up and fill our stomachs, we’ll be on our way.”

Morgana smiled, glad that Morgause knew how important it was that she find out as soon as possible. She took her hand in hers, firmly pressing their palms together. Whether it was their magick or something more, the feeling radiated through her. They were deeply connected to one another and Morgana found that although she had only known her for a short time, she trusted her completely. The feeling was scary, yet deeply comforting. It was a contradiction that only someone of such importance could instill in her.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For everything.”

For without Morgause, Morgana’s life would have turned out very differently. And even though this way wasn’t perfect, she knew it was the best case scenario and she was thankful beyond words for it, for the opportunity to live, to love, and to survive.

She just needed to make sure that Gwen would be able to do the same.

**TBC…**


	14. A Close Call

**CHAPTER XIV  
A Close Call**

“Heading out already?”

Morgana turned from preparing their steed for the long journey ahead of them to face Aglain. Morgause had gone to fill up their water pouches at the river and without her Morgana felt a little out of place in the Druid camp. Perhaps it was because she didn’t yet _feel_ like a sorceress, despite her ability to wield magick. With all the changes she had gone through over the last few days, she felt more like a lost girl than anything else in that moment. She hoped it didn’t show on her face.

“Yes,” Morgana answered. “We have a long way to go and I believe it best that we get there quickly. We thank you though, for your hospitality. You have been most kind.”

Aglain nodded in acknowledgement, but still took a few steps towards her. “Camelot’s knights will still be looking for you,” he said, heeding a warning. “You will not be safe out there. Perhaps it is better if you stayed a few more days; allow the knights to move past this area.”

Morgana understood what he was saying, but it didn’t make a difference. She had to see to it that Gwen was safe and she couldn’t do that here. “I appreciate your warning, but there are important matters we need to see to once we reach our destination and the sooner we get there, the better.”

“I understand,” he replied, not wanting to push the matter. Morgause and she had made their decision and it was theirs to make, whether it be a foolish one or not. “But please, let me offer you a token of protection before you go, you will be much safer that way. It would not rest well on my conscious to let you leave my camp unprotected from the dangers you may face.”

Morgana smiled at his gesture. “That is incredibly kind of you. Thank you, Aglain.” If she were to be honest, Morgana was quite uncertain that they would be safe out there as well, but she didn’t wish to doddle any longer than they had to, for Gwen’s sake. If Aglain could offer them something to keep them safer, she was very grateful for it; it would definitely allow her to sleep better at night.

Aglain pulled a small pouch from the inner pocket of his cloak and opened it up. Inside were perfectly rounded rocks, a symbol intricately carved atop each one. He handed Morgana two of them. “Keep these on you at all times,” he instructed. “They will cause you to be unseen by anyone without a magickal eye; it is what we bury in the earth around the outskirts of our camp.”

Morgana ran her thumb over the carving, a small smile forming on her face before she looked up at Aglain. “Thank you,” she replied, her heart swelling with warmth at the kind gesture. This was an amazing gift and Morgana wished she could give something in return other than her gratitude. She packed very little to travel however and had nothing of value other than her dresses, which were made of the finest silk.

Morgana turned to one of her packs, beginning to dig out one of her gowns with the hope that maybe Aglain could trade it for something of better worth to him, but he stopped her. “I do not need anything in return,” he told her, placing his hand gently on her pack. “Just be sure to keep yourselves safe along your journey.”

Morgana nodded, her grateful smile saying more than her words could express. She couldn’t understand how Uther was so afraid of these people; they were kinder than most anyone who lived inside Camelot’s walls. Aglain bowed his head slightly to her as a goodbye and Morgana returned it in kind before watching him walk away. She looked down at the stones in her hand, turning them over in her palm. It fascinated her, for something so small to hold so much power.

When Morgause returned from fetching water, her eyes landed on what Morgana was holding. “What are those?” she asked. Morgana was momentarily surprised that she didn’t know, but then realized that their magick must be different than a Druid’s. 

“A gift,” Morgana answered, holding one out for Morgause to take, “from Aglain. He says they will protect us from being seen by anyone with non-magickal blood.” She watched Morgause smile as she inspected the stone. She too understood the magnitude of the gift he bestowed on them.

“Just as the camp is,” she noted. Morgana nodded as she watched Morgause slip it into the small pouch that hung from her trousers. “That was very kind of him.”

“I tried to give him something in return, but he would not accept it,” Morgana told her, needing her to know that she tried to do the polite thing and return the gesture. She did not want Morgause believing that she thought herself entitled, regardless of her upbringing. 

“Druids are humble people; they live off the land and have no need for the finer things in life,” Morgause replied with a knowing smile, having guessed Morgana tried to give him something of great worth. But the gift Aglain gave them held unmatched value and Morgana thought that even one of her dresses wouldn’t be enough. Instead it seemed to be too much.

“I still felt as though I had to try.”

Morgause smiled understandingly. “I know,” she said, slipping her hand over Morgana’s and holding it tightly. “It is because you have a kind heart.” Morgana felt herself color with a slight blush and she looked down at their linked hands, wondering how she lived so long without the warmth that Morgause brought to her life. It completely consumed her and made her feel rather wonderful.

However, it seemed the happiness that Morgause bestowed upon her suddenly began to make Morgana feel terribly guilty. How could she dare smile when her best friend was most likely locked deep within Camelot’s dungeons? It made her feel like a rather awful human being and so she stepped back, quickly untangling her hand from Morgause’s. She shifted her eyes downcast as she told her, “We should probably get going.” Morgana didn’t have to look up to know that her behavior took Morgause aback; it was clear in her voice.

“Okay…” she responded, sounding perplexed and a little hurt by the sudden distance between them. She did not speak on it, however. Instead Morgause took a few steps backwards, clearing her throat lightly. “Yes, you’re right; we should go. We don’t have long until it gets dark and we’ll need to find a decent place to make camp.”

Morgana knew she wasn’t being fair to Morgause, but she didn’t wish to speak about her feelings just then. She was emotionally and mentally exhausted from all that they had been through over the last couple days and Morgana felt that she needed time to process things before she allowed herself to move forward. It wasn’t ideal, but Morgana was sure it would save her sanity.

Once the sun started to set, they began looking for a place to settle for the night. After awhile Morgause pointed out a small clearing a little ways off of the road to Mercia. Morgana hoped it was far enough off, as they didn’t just have to be on the lookout for the knights of Camelot, but bandits and scoundrels as well. But Morgause assured her that with the protection that Aglain gave them, the chances they would be found would be slim to none. It made Morgana feel more at ease and she began to unroll their bedding whilst Morgause took a walk, making sure they really were alone in the area.

Once she returned, Morgana looked up at her from her place on the ground. “Shouldn’t we build a fire?” she asked. The wind held a bitter chill that night, a sign that autumn was just on the horizon, and Morgana found herself shivering as soon as the sun went down. She wrapped her cloak tighter around her form as she furrowed her brow in question.

“That would draw attention,” Morgause answered regrettably. “Though the stones may protect us from being seen, I do not know if they will do the same for the things around us. I don’t think it would be wise to risk it.”

Morgana nodded, understanding. It was still quite the disappointment though; she was beginning to get very chilly. Morgause noticed this and sat beside her, placing a tentative hand on her knee. She seemed unsure about how close she should get though, after Morgana had made a point to emotionally distance herself from her. “If it doesn’t bother you, we could keep warm by using each other’s body heat,” she lightly suggested, although looked as though she wasn’t sure if she should even ask.

It made Morgana feel terrible, to cause Morgause to question the way that she felt. That didn’t change, but it was just terribly overwhelming right then. Still, Morgana knew it would do no good to continue to push her away; she just wished she didn’t feel so terribly guilty about being happy when she was with her. 

“Of course it wouldn’t bother me,” Morgana replied softly. She never wanted Morgause to believe that her touch would be anything but comforting to her. So when Morgause drew her into her arms, Morgana nuzzled her face into her neck and closed her eyes. She wished that the world around them would just disappear, that all of the bad things didn’t happen, that Gwen was with them, and that they were all happy and safe. It tore her apart that it wasn’t her reality, but Morgana had to have hope that one day it would be.

Morgause gently stroked her hair as she held her close. After placing a small kiss atop her head she asked, “I know this is probably a foolish question to ask, given all that has happened, but is everything alright?”

Morgana exhaled a long breath. She should have expected that Morgause would ask, but this wasn’t something she wished to discuss right then. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispered, hoping Morgause would just drop it. She did. 

“Alright.” 

Morgause didn’t say another word about it after that and Morgana was thankful. While there was so much she wished to say, she didn’t know how to begin. Perhaps once they got to the Isle and Morgana knew what her friend’s fate was to be, she’d be able to enjoy being with Morgause. But until then, she believed it better to punish herself. 

Morgana felt as though she deserved it, after all.

[x]

It saddened Morgause’s heart, to see how upset Morgana was. She wished more than anything that there had been a way to save Gwen, and part of her feared her sister blamed her for her friend’s fate. She supposed it would only be fair though, since she blamed herself. Logically, she knew they had to leave her behind, but emotionally it tore her to shreds inside. She knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of Uther Pendragon’s wrath and she didn’t wish that on anyone, let alone a friend.

Whilst she hoped that what had happened wouldn’t change anything between herself and Morgana, Morgause knew that it would be only fair if it did. She wasn’t surprised by the distance her sister had put between them, but she would be lying if Morgause said it didn’t hurt. Perhaps things would be better between them once they heard word of Gwen, but only time would tell.

They fell asleep rather quickly, being lulled into unconsciousness by the sounds of nature and the feeling of warmth in each other’s arms. It was short lasting, however.

Morgause was awoken by the sounds of voices and she sat up straight, causing Morgana, who was sleeping on her chest, to be rudely awakened by her sudden movement. She began to sleepily protest but Morgause quickly clapped a hand over her mouth, muffling her words. Just because they couldn’t be seen, didn’t mean they wouldn’t be heard.

Once Morgana had fully awakened and became aware of the situation she too sat up, eyes widening as she realized what it was that had startled Morgause. She clung to her, squeezing Morgause’s arm so tightly that it was sure to leave a mark. The voices were growing louder as the intruders approached and Morgause quickly gathered up their things. Perhaps if they were touching them, they wouldn’t be seen by whoever was coming nearer. Morgause wished she had asked Aglain how the stones worked before they left, but there was no time to sit there and mull over a guess; they had to act, _fast._

Morgana quickly realized what Morgause was doing and tried to help. Just in time too, for as Morgana made a point to place her hand on their steed in hopes to shield it from view, shadows were seen in the distance. There was no mistaking who they were now, as one voice was very recognizable.

“Keep moving,” Arthur told his knights, his voice cutting through the darkness and making Morgause’s heart pound in her chest. “Mercia is not far, I’m sure they took shelter there.”

“Arthur, we’ve been traveling all day; we need to rest.” 

The voice was familiar to Morgause, but it took a moment to place it. Suddenly she remembered Uther’s throne room and the boy; Arthur’s manservant, Merlin. Morgana was breathing rather heavily next to her, beginning to panic, and Morgause placed her hand back over her mouth to try to stifle the sounds. “Shh,” she hushed in her ear, her voice barely above a whisper. “They won’t be able to see us, just keep still.”

Morgana nodded, but it didn’t seem like her words had comforted her any. She was still tense, her eyes wide and fearful. Morgause wished she could do more to calm her, but as Camelot’s knights came into view, she knew there was nothing she could do but keep still herself and hope for the best. 

“We’ll rest once they’re found,” Arthur told his manservant, a warning in his tone; he did not want to be questioned on the matter. The knights did look rather exhausted behind him, but none of them spoke up to agree with Merlin; what their prince wanted, they would give him. 

“But—” Merlin’s words were quickly cut off though as they stuck in his throat. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the clearing they resided in. Morgause began to grow fearful that the stones were not working, but Arthur and the rest of the knights didn’t even spare them a glance. They kept moving onwards, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. Merlin looked at Arthur, then looked back at Morgana and Morgause, his expression one of utter perplexion and shock.

Realization dawned on Morgause and her eyes widened. _The boy had magick._ She would have never imagined that a sorcerer would willingly become the manservant of a Pendragon, yet it was clearer than day that one had. Fear began to rise up in Morgause as she realized he may, for some twisted reason, also be loyal to Arthur. If that was the case, all hope would be lost. 

Arthur stopped for a moment, realizing his manservant was no longer following him. Once his eyes landed on the boy he asked, “Merlin, what the hell are you staring at?” His stance was impatient and he was quickly growing annoyed that the boy had caused them to stop.

Merlin opened his mouth to speak, but before he did Morgause used telepathy to speak to him. _“Please,”_ she pleaded silently. _“I only did this to save Morgana; the King would kill her if he knew she had magick. You know how he treats our kind. I know you owe us no favors, but if you say anything it will cost us our lives.”_

Merlin looked momentarily startled that he was hearing Morgause’s voice in his head. It made Morgause wonder if he had ever lived amongst his kind, or if he thought himself rather alone in the world. That must be a painful way to live, and that was why Morgause came for Morgana; she never wished her to feel that way. She hoped the boy would understand.

“Merlin!”

Merlin quickly looked to Arthur, who had his hands on his hips and looked as though he were ready to explode at the inconvenience the boy was bringing him. Merlin paused for a long time, looking torn on what to do, before he looked back towards the two women. Morgause held her breath as she awaited his response to Arthur.

“Nothing,” he said finally, though it still seemed he was having a hard time trying to morally justify lying to his master. He turned to Arthur as he explained, “I guess I’m just tired.”

Arthur looked exasperated. “We’ll rest once we reach Mercia, but the longer you doddle over there looking like an idiot, the longer it’ll take us to reach the city. So are you done, or do you want to stare at the trees some more?”

Merlin didn’t look too pleased about how Arthur spoke to him, but responded, “I’m done.”

As the boy began to walk away, Morgause telepathically said, _“Thank you.”_ She was grateful for Merlin’s silence, more than he would probably ever realize. He just saved their lives. Though perhaps with the way Arthur treated him, it shouldn’t have been much of a surprise. Still, he could have had more loyalty to his city than his own kind – considering it seemed he had never been amongst them – and for that Morgause couldn’t be more thankful that he chose to let them live. 

Merlin glanced back at them as Arthur and his knights began to trek onwards. _“Don’t make me regret it,”_ he told her seriously. It was obvious the decision was hard for him and Morgause nodded, understanding how it would make him feel should his silence cause him suffering in the end. 

Once the knights were out of sight, both women stayed completely still for a long time. Neither of them wished to move or speak until they were sure Arthur and his men were out of earshot. After a moment, Morgause released the breath she had been holding and Morgana took that as a sign to speak, although she still kept her voice just above a whisper. She was frantic.

“He saw us! Merlin, he stared right at us!”

“I know,” Morgause told her, rubbing her hand along her back in an attempt to ease her panic. “It seems Arthur’s manservant isn’t as useless as he believes him to be. We’re lucky, that he chose not to say anything. We owe him a debt.”

Morgana still couldn’t seem to wrap her head around that though and asked, “But how did he see us? I thought no one but those with magickal blood—!” But she stopped herself mid-sentence, seeing Morgause’s eyebrows rise as she waited for Morgana to draw the obvious conclusion. Her mouth dropped opened after a moment. “ _No,_ ” she exclaimed, unable to believe it. “Merlin has magick? _Merlin?_ Why on earth is he serving Arthur then; what gain could there be in that for him?”

“I don’t know,” Morgause answered, wondering that herself. “But I’m sure if he didn’t wish to be, he could get out of it rather easily. Perhaps he thinks it’s safer, keeping his enemies closer. There is a decent strategy in that theory, after all.”

Morgana didn’t respond. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, still looking rather worried as she stared out at the direction Arthur had gone. Morgause wrapped her in her arms, holding her close. She hoped the gesture would comfort her. “They’re gone; we’re safe now,” Morgause hushed, her tone soothing. She rubbed Morgana’s arms as she placed a kiss upon her temple. “You need to get to some sleep. Try to relax.” 

But Morgana couldn’t relax. She shifted in Morgause’s arms, shaking her head. “No,” she said. “I just… I don’t feel safe here anymore. If Merlin changes his mind, he could lead Arthur back to us. We need to go somewhere else, please.”

It was the middle of the night and Morgause didn’t know how wise that was, but she didn’t want Morgana to be frightened so she nodded. “Alright, let’s gather our things then.” Morgana looked grateful that she understood and quickly began to place items back into their saddlebags. Morgause bit her bottom lip in concern as she watched her sister for a moment. 

Arthur had come much too close to them for comfort, which caused Morgause to fear that Morgana might never feel safe enough on this journey. They had believed the stones to be a rather foolproof plan, but it seemed that they were the fools to believe such a thing. They still had quite a long way to go, and unless Morgause found another way to make her sister feel safe, she worried Morgana would lose sleep over it.

That would weaken her powers, and whilst on the run from the Knights of Camelot, that was really the last thing that they needed.

**TBC…**


	15. The Isle of the Blessed

**CHAPTER XV  
The Isle of the Blessed**

It took four days to reach the Isle of the Blessed. Both women were completely exhausted once the magnificent island had come into view, as after their run in with Arthur, Morgause had suggested that they begin to sleep in shifts. Though Morgana found she slept much better knowing that Morgause was watching over her, they still only got half as much sleep as they needed to be fully competent. Morgause worried that it would affect their magick in a negative way, but Morgana feared she wouldn’t be able to sleep at all if they hadn’t done things that way. In the end, half strength was better than none at all.

Thankfully, they didn’t have any more close calls with the Knights of Camelot. Morgause made a point to take the off-beaten path with the hope that Arthur and his men would continue down the road. They seemed to, which Morgana was thankful for. However, going off road made the journey a lot harder and Morgana’s legs were screaming at her for rest. They paused for a moment as they looked out at the island and she leaned into Morgause, trying to tell herself not to collapse for they were nearly there.

“It’s beautiful,” Morgana told her. It looked as though a great castle once rested upon its earth, though over the years had been brought to near ruin. The mist that seemed to cover the lake it was placed on made the Isle seem rather deserted, but from what Morgause had told her that obviously wasn’t the case. Perhaps it was a spell, a way to make it seem like no one resided there anymore. 

“It used to be,” Morgause responded, slipping her arm around Morgana’s waist. Her tone was solemn and the Ward looked at her, furrowing her brow. “Uther attacked us during the Great Purge. So much of it has laid waste to the world over the years, but we dare not rebuild it. If Uther knew some of us still resided here, he would come back and finish the job.”

Morgana’s heart clenched in her chest, the sympathy for how terrible it must’ve been causing tears to spring to her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, feeling awful for all the things her people – no, _their_ people – had to go through because of the man who raised her. 

Morgana knew about Uther’s fight against magick, but when it happened she wasn’t old enough to really understand how devastating it was. She felt so unattached to it all, yet now it seemed that she was closer to it than she ever thought possible. The Great Purge was talked about like a heroic fairytale in Camelot, but Morgana could see now that it was nothing but a horror story. Uther was not a hero; he was a monster. Because a part of her still cared for him, it tore Morgana to shreds inside. He was not the man she thought him to be and the realization made her rather nauseous as she looked out at Morgause’s ruined home, wishing she had known then what she knew now.

“It is not your fault,” Morgause assured her, not wanting her to feel blame when the sorceress knew that over the years Morgana’s mind had been poisoned by so many of Uther’s lies. “Sometimes we still worry he’ll come back though, which is why we have implemented the veil.”

“The veil?”

Morgause nodded her head towards the island. “It’s protected by magick; those who come to us with good intentions are able to see the truth. Those that do not see nothing but an abandoned island long forgotten by its people, even should they walk among us.”

“But he doesn’t?” Morgana began to ask with hope in her voice, “Come back, that is? We’ll be safe here?” She had worried about that while on their journey; the Isle of the Blessed was a known place of magick and Morgana didn’t understand why Morgause would hide in such an obvious place. It seemed foolish.

“He’s sends a knight or two every once in a while to check, but as the years have gone on, the less we’ve see them come by. I don’t think he believes anyone would ever dare come back here, because of its strong connection to the magickal community,” Morgause told her. “That’s why we opted to hide in plain sight; it wouldn’t be expected of us. So far, the theory has worked out rather well. Though I would never give you the assurance of safety when I cannot guarantee it, I do believe Uther will not come for us here. There is a chance I could be wrong, however.”

That didn’t make Morgana feel any better, but she understood that Morgause didn’t want to promise her something she couldn’t guarantee. Still, something protecting them was better than nothing at all, and as the Isle was filled with those of magickal blood; the protection they could offer them was far more powerful than any other city in Albion. Morgana nodded, understanding.

“Come,” Morgause encouraged her, taking her hand so she could help Morgana walk. She had noticed she was unsteady on her feet due to the tiring journey, but thought it better if they kept moving. “We’re almost there, then you can rest for as long as you like.” 

Knowing Morgause was right, Morgana began to follow her towards the lake’s edge. She knew she would feel much safer sleeping once they got there, so she just had to push forward for a little while longer. Her legs ached and the muscles in her back were knotted, but as they reached the docks she breathed a sigh of relief, she would be able to sit in the small boat that would carry them to the Isle at least.

Morgause helped her to sit down, but Morgana immediately looked around in confusion. “There are no paddles,” she noted. Honestly it looked as though the boat had been abandoned, with the state of it. She hoped it wouldn’t collapse on the way there. But Morgause just smiled at her as she climbed in and took a seat beside her.

“We don’t need them.”

Her eyes flashed gold as she commanded, _“Remigatio.”_ The boat began to move of its own accord and Morgana felt a little foolish, as she should have known it was possible to do so with magick. 

Morgana briefly wondered how long it would take her until she could control her magick, let alone do so many things with it. Though it was a gift that was bestowed upon her, it was obvious that it was never meant to be easy. Like everything in life, great accomplishment only came to those who were willing to work for it. And as Morgana had just given up her life and everything she had ever known for it, she would be foolish if she didn’t make every effort to do the best she could whilst on her new path. 

This was who she was now and she didn’t want to waste the opportunity to live a better, happier life. Morgana hated what her life was turning into when she was in Camelot; destined to be married off to the highest bidder to a man she didn’t love, forced to live a life with no adventure or excitement. Perhaps she had more of it now than she could probably handle, but Morgana didn’t regret her decision; she knew this was where she was meant to be and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

When they reached land, Morgause extended her hand to help her out of the boat. Morgana looked up at the remnants of the magnificent castle in awe; despite it being overgrown and looking rather deserted, it really was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. She didn’t have much time to take everything in however, as an aging woman quickly approached them, a look of utter disbelief plastered on her face.

“Morgause!” she called out, relieved to see her back. She practically knocked the blonde over as she enveloped her in a tight embrace, tears swimming behind her eyes. “I feared you wouldn’t come back to us,” she whispered, her emotions seemingly more than she could handle. Morgause hugged her back just as tight, a huge smile on her face as she was reunited with someone she obviously cared very deeply for.

“I promised you I would. I wouldn’t go back on my word,” Morgause told her, her voice catching from the force of her own emotion. When they broke, the woman turned to Morgana, looking at her as though she had seen a ghost.

“Oh, and look at you,” she gushed, bringing her hand up to cup Morgana’s cheek gently in her hand, as though she feared she was made out of glass. “You look so much like your mother. I can hardly believe you’re really here.”

Morgana felt a little awkward, as she didn’t know who this woman was, but she gave her a small smile. Not many people knew her mother and could never make such a statement, so Morgana found herself proud to find out that she looked so much like her. She wished Uther would have told her that, but he never spoke about her parents; she had always believed it was because the memory of their death was too painful for him. As she understood it, they were very close.

“Morgana, this is my aunt Llamrei,” Morgause introduced, realizing Morgana looked a little overwhelmed with being confronted by someone who knew her, yet she had no knowledge of. “After I left Camelot, she was the one who raised me.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Llamrei,” Morgana said, bowing her head a little in acknowledgement. She smiled, glad that Morgause had someone to call family. As she had never spoken of any, other than the fact that her mother was deceased, Morgana wasn’t sure if she had anyone growing up. 

“Come inside, dears; you must be exhausted,” Llamrei beckoned, ushering them through the courtyard to the entrance of the castle. “I’ve kept your room made up, Morgause. Morgana can stay with you until we make other arrangements for her.”

Morgause glanced at Morgana out of the corner of her eye and after their eyes had met, Morgana politely shook her head. “That’s very kind of you, but if it’s all the same, I would prefer to continue rooming with Morgause. I think I would feel most comfortable there and besides, I wouldn’t want you to be put through the trouble of trying to find somewhere to keep me.”

Llamrei looked back at Morgause for a moment as if to confirm that was what she wished as well, and as she was met with a nod she responded, “If that’s what you wish, then that will of course be acceptable.” 

As they entered the castle, they were met with a few stares from other sorcerers who had gathered in the main hall to see who had come to their island. Morgana wondered how many of them knew who she was, or knew that she was the reason Morgause had left. She didn’t have long to contemplate it however, as Llamrei began speaking again.

“Why don’t you show Morgana to your quarters,” she suggested to Morgause. “Get yourself settled and rest a bit. We’ll speak at dinner.” 

Her response was a nod and Morgause laced her fingers between Morgana’s, gently guiding her down another hallway and away from everyone else. The Ward didn’t realize how tired she was until Morgause showed her to their room; when her head hit the pillow she was out within moments, Morgause’s arms wrapped tightly around her. 

It turned out to be the best sleep she had had in quite a long time.

[x]

When Morgause awoke she found Morgana lying peacefully next to her, fast asleep. Morgause gently brushed the hair back from her sister’s face, a small smile playing at the edge of her lips. Since they had been on the road, Morgause had always watched her toss and turn in her sleep. Nightmares seemed to plague Morgana constantly and it was nice to see her completely relaxed for once, even though Morgause knew it was only temporary. Once Morgana awoke, she would want to send her letter to Uther right away and once more become overcome with worry until she received an answer. Coming here was the first step in rescuing Gwen, but they both knew they had a long way to go from here.

Morgause climbed out of bed carefully, so as not to disturb her. After she had changed into a clean set of clothing, she quickly exited her bedroom and let her feet carry her down the hallway to the room of elders, where she guessed her aunt was residing. She was more than likely informing the council of the newest resident, so everyone was aware of who Morgana was and would welcome her with open arms.

However, that was what Morgause was afraid of.

She had meant to tell Llamrei that she hadn’t yet revealed who she really was to Morgana, but sleep overtook her the second she had lain down with her. Morgause had merely wished to lull her sister into slumber and then find her aunt, but it seemed she had underestimated her own exhaustion. Now she worried everyone would know and it would force her to reveal the truth much sooner than she was ready for. If she were to be honest, the conversation absolutely terrified her and Morgause wanted to put it off as long as humanly possible.

When she entered the council chambers, she was surprised to find it empty. Hope entered Morgause’s heart that Llamrei had yet to call them all together and she turned, heading towards her aunt’s room instead. But she didn’t find her there either and thus began a search that took much longer than Morgause expected. 

She finally found Llamrei in the garden behind the castle and Morgause chided herself on her stupidity, because she should have known. The elderly sorcerer who had taken care of the crops for many years had just recently passed on and her aunt had taken on the responsibility just before Morgause had left. By the look on Llamrei’s face as she tended to them though, it seemed she quite enjoyed it and Morgause was glad.

When her aunt looked up, her face colored with surprise. “Morgause,” she greeted. “I had thought you would still be resting.” She used her hands to hoist herself up rather unsteadily, but Morgause knew better than to try to help her; Llamrei was very stubborn when it came to the ailments of her aging and never wished for any assistance. 

“I need to speak with you,” Morgause told her, crossing the distance between them. “Do you have a moment?”

“Of course,” Llamrei answered, ushering her over to the stone bench situated just underneath the large apple tree. Morgause took a seat next to her and Llamrei placed a comforting hand on her knee. “What troubles you, child? You look worried.”

Morgause chewed lightly on her bottom lip for a moment, wondering how to word this. She decided it was probably best to be straightforward though and responded, “I’m concerned that you may have already told the council who Morgana really is.”

Llamrei’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why would that trouble you? The council would not reject to her training, if that is what you fear; she is a High Priestess, magick is her birthright.”

Though the council did elect not to train some sorcerers who they feared would use their magick for destructive ends, that thought never crossed Morgause’s mind. There wasn’t an evil bone in her sister’s body. Besides, as Llamrei mentioned, it was her birthright. High Priestesses were the Goddess’s instruments on earth and even if they did wish to use their magick for destruction, it was much too powerful to be left unattended. In that case, all the council could do was try to teach the girl good values and hope that she would make the right decision. 

Outside of Nimueh, whose morals were questionable at best, there hadn’t been many issues with that. But, as Morgause had been told, Nimueh had every reason in the world to be consumed with hatred and revenge. She could not fault her for it and it seemed neither could the council, though they have made a point to keep a close eye on her after she was banished from Camelot’s court. They did not want her to make trouble, especially as their numbers were so few already.

“No, that’s not it,” Morgause replied as she shook her head. She looked down at her hands, unable to meet her aunt’s eye. “It’s just that I… I haven’t exactly told Morgana that we’re blood. I don’t want someone else revealing it before I have the chance to do it myself. She would never forgive me.”

Llamrei peered at her, as if trying to decipher why Morgause looked so ashamed of herself. It seemed she could not though, so she asked, “And why haven’t you told her yet?”

Morgause stayed silent.

Llamrei sighed softly, her tone regrettable. “I’m very sorry, Morgause, but most people here already know of Morgana’s relation to you. I had told the elders after you left that you went in search of your sister; I hadn’t thought you wished to keep it a secret.”

Morgana’s throat constricted and she found it hard to breathe. No, it wasn’t supposed to be this way. She had let herself hope that since she did not find her aunt in the council chambers that perhaps she would have more time, but it seemed it was a foolish thing to believe. Of course Llamrei would have told them; she should have expected that her departure would raise questions.

“I do not think there is much to worry about, my dear,” Llamrei continued, trying to comfort her. “It seems you two have grown very close; I believe she would be happy to hear that you are family. It might even make her feel more comfortable here. It must be hard for the poor girl, to have everything she had ever known change in an instant. Telling her might bring her some peace and the knowledge that she is where she belongs.”

Morgause shook her head. “It’s not that simple,” she whispered, distraught over how things had turned out. She would have to tell Morgana the truth before her sister ventured out of their room and it made Morgause sick to her stomach. She was terrified that Morgana would be furious with her; or worse, disgusted that Morgause allowed something to happen between them when she knew all along that they were blood linked.

“And why is that?” Llamrei asked carefully, noting how upset Morgause was getting. The blonde still did not speak. Llamrei squeezed her knee encouragingly and said, “Morgause, whatever it is, I promise I will not judge. I know if you’re this afraid of telling her then there must be a good reason. Let me help you.”

Morgause hesitated for a long time, staring out at the garden. She seemed to be more looking _through_ it rather than at it though, as more and more bad scenarios played out in the back of her mind. “I, uh…” she began, but it seemed the words could not come. “We…” Morgause closed her eyes and swallowed her fear, hoping Llamrei spoke the truth when she told her she wouldn’t judge. “We’ve… grown much closer,” she told her quietly, “than sisters should.”

Llamrei’s eyebrows shot upwards and she spoke, probably much louder than she actually intended due to her surprise, “You took her as your _lover?_ ”

Hearing it said out loud like that made Morgause color in shame and she hid her face in her hands, feeling for the first time the full extent of the wrong she had done. Before, in Camelot, it seemed almost like a dream, surreal and full of more magick than either of them could ever hope to possess. But the dream had passed and now that she was home, the harsh reality of her situation came to light. She hadn’t thought before what she would do once she got back to the Isle in regards to her relationship with Morgana, she was merely thinking of how to get them there safely and in one piece. 

“I didn’t go looking for it,” Morgause tried to explain, desperately hoping her aunt wouldn’t think of her in a negative light for it. Llamrei was the closest thing she had to a mother and she couldn’t bear to disappointment in such a way. “It just happened. I’m sorry, really I am. I should have had more restraint, you’ve taught me better than to be seduced by fantasies.”

Llamrei looked at her for a long time, the silence nearly driving Morgause to madness. Finally Llamrei moved, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close. “My dear, even High Priestesses are not equipped against the pull of love. Never fault yourself for that. You’ve seen with your own eyes that some of us here do not walk through life alone. Though ties like that can complicate things, we do not condemn it.”

Morgause nodded, understanding that part of it. But before she could say anything, Llamrei continued.

“However I do think that it was very unwise of you to embark on such a relationship without first telling Morgana the truth.” Her tone was chiding and Morgause colored in shame once more. “It is not my place to judge where you find your happiness, but it is Morgana’s. What you two have is quite unorthodox, even in our community, and I fear that she may not be as comfortable with the truth as you are.”

Right now, Morgause didn’t feel very comfortable with the truth. She had never given a thought as to how other people would perceive their relationship, and though she had seen women with other women on the Isle, never had they been a pair of sisters. Though in the end, Morgause knew what other people thought of them really was no matter; what counted was what Morgana thought, and that was what paralyzed her with fear.

“I’m afraid I’ll lose her,” Morgause whispered. Her fear and sadness welled up in her chest, bringing tears to her eyes. She didn’t know how she could live with herself after finally finding Morgana, only to lose her due to her own idiocy. It would kill her inside.

“You might,” Llamrei told her, not one to lie. “But if she truly cares for you as much as you seem to care for her, I believe the most you will have to worry about is her anger, which she has every right to feel. It was very selfish of you to lie to her like that, Morgause.”

“I know,” Morgause replied softly, wiping a fallen tear from her eye. She felt awful; she had allowed her desire to overrun her sense of decency and that was not the kind of person she was raised to be. Llamrei must be so disappointed with her. She was disappointed in herself. “I’ll tell her.”

“Now,” Llamrei finished pointedly, which sounded more like an order than a request. Morgause nodded, knowing she had no room to argue with her.

“Now,” she quietly agreed as she stood up, her heart beginning to pound heavily in her chest as her nerves overtook her. But Morgause swallowed her fear as she headed back towards the castle, knowing she had to do this.

If she didn’t, someone else would surely tell Morgana; and that would end up being _far_ worse…

**TBC…**


	16. The Long Awaited Truth

**CHAPTER XVI  
The Long Awaited Truth**

When Morgause returned to their room, Morgana was in the midst of getting dressed. The door opening suddenly caused Morgana to squeak in surprise and she attempted to cover herself, believing Morgause to be someone else. Morgause still averted her eyes however and quickly apologized, embarrassed to have walked in on her sister in such a state; especially considering what she came here to do. “I’m sorry, I should have knocked. I had thought you were still asleep. I’ll just—” She moved to leave, wanting to allow Morgana some privacy, but the Ward interrupted her.

“No, it's… it's fine just, please, shut the door,” Morgana requested, holding her gown across her chest to hide her shift from view. “I don’t wish to be on display for all who happen to pass by.”

Morgause hurriedly did as she was told, feeling rather foolish. She was so terrified about coming here to begin with, and accidently walking in on Morgana in a state of undress was not helping matters. When she was so exposed her beauty radiated even more so and it made it difficult for Morgause to breathe, let alone think straight. So once she had closed the door, Morgause made a point to not look at her, knowing this would be easier if she wasn’t being taunted by forbidden desires.

“I need to speak with you,” she told Morgana, her back turned to her until she was sure her sister had dressed herself. “It’s… it’s urgent.” The words had a hard time getting past her lips and came out rather broken and fearful as she dug her thumbnail into her palm, trying to distract herself from her fear.

She probably should have not said that so soon though, as it made Morgana concerned and she abandoned her task of dressing in proper attire. “What is it?” she asked, her tone heightened with worry as she crossed the room to stand beside her, her gown forgotten on the floor. She put her hand on Morgause’s shoulder, forcing her to turn around and face her. “Is it Gwen? _Did you hear something?_ ”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Morgause assured her. “I just…” But the words wouldn’t come. Her gaze fell from Morgana’s face and downwards to her breasts before she could stop herself. Her shift left little to the imagination and Morgause’s face colored as she took a step backwards from her, feeling ashamed of her lack of control. What was she, an animal? Given the circumstances, her thoughts were extremely inappropriate and she needed to get a hold on them. 

What she had to say was much more important than how she felt right now.

“Please,” Morgause requested softly, averting her gaze. She really didn’t want Morgana to know what she was thinking right then, but if she wished to have this conversation then she had to be honest about what was preventing her from voicing it. Besides, what right did she have to see Morgana like that after she admits that she lied to her? Morgause would count herself lucky if her sister wished to see her at all after this, regardless of her attire or lack thereof. “It would be easier for me to speak to you if you had some clothes on. You are… _incredibly_ distracting right now.”

Morgana looked momentarily confused, but realized rather quickly what Morgause meant. “Oh! I… I’m sorry,” Morgana stumbled, now becoming the one who was embarrassed. She covered her breasts with her arm as she turned around, hurrying back over to her gown so she could pick it up off the floor. “I wasn’t thinking; I was just afraid—”

“It’s not as though I don’t wish to see you like that,” Morgause interrupted, the words coming out of her mouth before she even had a chance to process what she was saying. “I’m just very afraid you won’t want me to after I…” 

But she couldn’t finish. The words stuck in her throat and Morgause closed her eyes, knowing she said too much too fast. “I just… no,” she tried to backtrack, though it was probably of little use. Morgana wasn’t deaf, nor stupid. “I just mean that it’s hard to concentrate on my words when you’re like that, is all.”

But Morgana wasn’t fooled. “Morgause, what is it?” she asked, her voice suddenly sounding small as she clutched her gown to her chest, as though it’s fabric might bring her the sense of comfort she so desperately needed then. “You’re scaring me.”

Morgause hated this. Her fear was nearly choking her alive and in the process she was scaring Morgana. That wasn’t fair to her; she had never meant to hurt her and yet it seemed that’s what was to come of her selfish decision to not be honest. It tore her heart in half and the feeling threatened to devour her whole.

Morgause turned around to face her and Morgana’s fearful vulnerability shattered her sanity. She crossed the room to her in an instant, emotion welling up inside of her with every step. When she reached her sister, Morgause cupped her cheek in her hand, tears of regret stinging the back of her eyes as she looked at the one person who had brought so much beauty into her life. Without thought or hesitation, their lips met and Morgana clung to her, quite possibly understanding this may be the last kiss they ever shared. It was feverish, desperate, and utterly heartbreaking. Morgause poured every emotion she had into her, needing Morgana to understand how much she truly cared for her, how much warmth she had brought to her life, and how _very_ sorry she was that she was about to destroy the only thing that made them feel whole.

“Remember that,” she begged her softly, resting her forehead against her sister’s. Morgause closed her eyes as if she were trying to block out what was to come, but not before a tear fell and landed on Morgana’s flushed cheek. The Ward took a shuddered inhale of breath as Morgause continued, “Please, Morgana, you owe me no favors, but I beg of you to remember how much I feel for you…”

“What is it? Morgause, _please,_ ” Morgana pleaded, her voice tight as she tried to keep herself from crying. She clung to her arm, her nails digging into Morgause’s skin from the desperation her grip held. Morgana seemed to lose the battle with her emotions however as the first tear fell from her eyes. “Is it…?” she began to ask, fear coloring her tone as she drew the wrong conclusion. Morgana could barely get out the words; they seemed to hurt her so badly. “Is it that you— Do you… have someone _else_ here?”

“No,” Morgause told her, voice strained from emotion. She couldn’t even fathom that possibility and didn’t see how Morgana could either. She shook her head as she wiped away her tears, assuring her, “It has only ever been you, Morgana. I promise you that...”

“Then what _is_ it?!” Morgana exclaimed, shrieking with desperation for an answer. Morgause’s inability to just come out and say it was making her even more afraid and her hands connected with the blonde’s arms, pushing her backwards in fearful frustration before grasping onto one of her hands. “Just tell me, please; I cannot bear feeling like this! You’re speaking to me as though we’ll never see each other again, can’t you understand how that frightens me?!”

“I know, I’m sorry—” Morgause tried, hating herself because she knew she was making this worse than it had to be. She shook her head, having to turn away from Morgana for a moment to try to collect herself. After violently wiping away the tears that kept sliding down her cheeks, she told her in a broken whisper, “I lied to you, about who I really am. I’m sorry, but after all that’s happened I was too afraid to tell you.” Morgause couldn’t look her in the eye as she said it and she felt like such a coward.

Morgana’s bottom lip quivered, yet she stood her ground and her voice was stronger than Morgause was expecting. “Then who are you?” she demanded. Though she looked as though she was on the verge of falling apart, she pushed it aside in an instant. Morgause wished she could do the same.

“My name is Morgause and I was born in Camelot, I never lied about that,” Morgause began, her voice trembling with the fear of what would follow her admission. “I was raised here and I am a High Priestess. But…” She hesitated and despite how hard her heart was pounding in her chest, despite the sorrow that could follow this conversation, Morgause knew she owed it to Morgana to at least face her when she told her the truth.

She turned and their eyes met. Morgana was holding her breath, apprehension and doubt swimming behind her emerald eyes as she waited for Morgause to finish. Gathering up every bit of courage she had inside of her, Morgause forced herself to finish, “But my mother was the Lady Vivienne; my father, Sir Gorlois Le Fay.”

Morgana did not speak, she did not move, she barely even blinked. She just stared at her, stock still, and Morgause took the opportunity to try to explain.

“When the Great Purge happened, Uther was already aware of my magick and so to keep me safe mother gave me to Llamrei, who smuggled me out of the city,” Morgause told her, her words coming out of her mouth nearly all in one breath, fearing interruption. “But as you were young enough that they had yet to emerge, she kept you in Camelot and bound your magick, as she knew it would be harder to believe if she claimed both of her children had died during the riots. That’s… that’s the real reason I came for you; I knew the spell was about to break and I couldn’t let my own blood be left to the wrath of Uther Pendragon, should he have found out who you truly were.”

Morgana still said nothing. Morgause felt the silence begin to consume her sanity and suddenly desperation overtook her. She grasped for her sister’s hand, begging her, “Please forgive me, I didn’t—” But suddenly Morgana moved and Morgause’s words were cut short as her sister’s hand was ripped from her grasp, connecting violently with her cheek instead. Morgause stumbled backwards, stunned as she held her stinging flesh. Though she knew she deserved it, she hadn’t quite expected it.

“Get out.”

Morgana’s words were hollow, as though she felt detached from reality. She stared at her in disbelief and regret masked over Morgause’s face as she tried to take a step forwards. She needed her to understand. “Morgana, please—”

“I said get _out!_ ” 

Morgana’s voice was a fitful shriek, her eyes wild with anger over the betrayal of trust. Morgause wanted to say something, anything; she needed to make it better, but she didn’t want to enrage her sister any further. This was her fault and she didn’t have a say in what happened now. And so as another tear slipped down her cheek, Morgause turned from Morgana, allotting her the one thing she desired right now.

All she could do now was hope that it wouldn’t be the last.

[x]

Morgana’s emotions were overwhelming. She felt so much that all of it seemed to contradict each other, leaving her confused and feeling very much alone. She cried for what seemed like forever, desperately trying to understand the difference between what she did feel and what she should feel; it all seemed to jumble together and Morgana found she barely even knew her own thoughts anymore. She was just overcome by so many emotions that they wrapped her up, suffocating the breath from her as she desperately tried to understand.

She didn’t know why she was so angry with Morgause. Was it because the one person she trusted the most had lied to her, or because Morgause had willingly embarked on a relationship with her whilst knowing the truth of their lineage? Because Morgana was feeling everything at once, she was unsure if the latter even mattered, in the grand scheme of things. Would she have never felt this way for Morgause if she knew they were sisters? Morgana wasn’t sure, and the uncertainty was maddening. Perhaps if she knew, she could discover why she was really angry with her.

She missed her terribly; it felt as though when Morgause walked out that door that she took a piece of Morgana’s heart with her. But the Ward was so angry that she didn’t want to see it returned until she was ready to forgive her; it was just that, at the moment, Morgana was unsure which part warranted the apology. Maybe all of it did.

The thought made her uncomfortable, embarking on a romantic relationship with someone of her own blood. Morgana was raised to believe something like that was wrong, but then again, she was also raised to believe that any Sapphic dalliances were wrong. So what was the difference, really? Morgana pushed the belief of normalcy aside once she found she felt so much for Morgause, because how could something so wrong feel so right? So would it not be the same for an incestuous relationship, or was Morgana merely trying to make excuses for their wrongdoing? Her uncertainty about how she truly felt was what really made her uncomfortable, more than the actual notion of what they had done.

It was as though she didn’t know her own heart anymore.

After quite some time, Morgana found she couldn’t cry anymore. Everything that had happened had drained her emotionally, yet the world did not stop just because Morgause had lied to her. With or without her help, Morgana needed to make sure Gwen was okay. So after she hastily wrote a letter to Uther, Morgana left their room in search of someone who would help her send it.

She climbed the stairs to the tallest tower, assuming that was where they kept their ravens. However when she opened the door, she found the tower empty save a fount and a woman, who’s back was turned to Morgana as she peered into it. “I’m sorry,” the Ward apologized, embarrassed to have interrupted someone she did not know. “I was looking for your ravens. Where are they kept?”

The woman did not speak for a long moment and Morgana wondered if she was deaf. “Ravens are called to us,” she said finally, although did not give Morgana the courtesy of at least turning around when she addressed her. “They are not _kept._ ” The tone in her voice made Morgana feel foolish for assuming that they were, although she had no prior knowledge of how things were done here.

“I do not know how to call them forth,” Morgana admitted quietly. That made the woman turn towards her, her gaze drinking in all that Morgana was and silently assessing who it was that had stepped foot in her tower. Finally she smiled; it was highly unsettling.

“Morgana Pendragon,” she assumed, taking a step towards her. “I’ve been waiting many years for you to finally join us; you are most welcome here.”

“Le Fay,” Morgana corrected, a little startled that someone actually believed she was of royal blood. No one had ever assumed such a thing before, but then perhaps, everyone in Camelot knew her true lineage. “Uther Pendragon was merely my caregiver.”

The woman did not comment on Morgana’s correction. Instead she introduced, “I am Nimueh, High Priestess of the Triple Goddess.” 

Morgana’s brow furrowed. “I’ve heard of you,” she said, though it seemed strange that the woman she had heard of was the same one that was standing before her; Nimueh looked much too young to be the same person. However she still looked upon the witch in disdain. “You were banished from Camelot’s court. You… you killed Uther’s wife, Arthur’s mother.”

“ _No,_ ” Nimueh corrected strongly. “Uther’s foolish insistence was what killed Ygraine. I warned him there would be consequences to bringing a life into this world, he did not listen.”

Morgana side glanced her, unsure if she should trust what the sorceress had to say. “You mean to tell me that _you_ brought Arthur into this world?” Her tone was skeptical. The Uther she knew would never condone such a thing.

“Ygraine could not conceive and your King was desperate for an heir.” Nimueh noted Morgana’s look and said, “You do not have to believe me, but it is the truth.”

Morgana was led to believe that the Great Purge began when Nimueh stole the life of Uther’s wife. The thing was, he had never said why it was her fault. Morgana knew Ygraine died in childbirth, but she always wondered what that had to do with Nimueh. It didn’t make sense, but she never had the courage to ask; Ygraine’s death was something that was never spoken about, _ever._ It was possible that the woman before her was speaking the truth, but she still found it hard to trust her.

“Why do you look so young?” she asked suddenly, feeling as though Nimueh’s deceiving appearance made it more difficult for Morgana to trust her. If she truly was the same woman, she should be well past half her life by now, yet she looked like she had barely seen two dozen winters. 

Nimueh smirked, amused by her question. “Vanity exists even in the highest of beings, Morgana. I appear this way because it suits me.”

Morgana’s eyebrow arched at her self-assessment of being a ‘higher being.’ She seemed terribly full of herself. Morgause had the same title and yet did not come off as such, so Nimueh’s words left a bitter taste in Morgana’s mouth.

“Vanity is merely a way to overshadow one’s lack of self-confidence.”

Now it was Nimueh’s turn to arch an eyebrow in her direction. She looked both insulted, yet impressed by Morgana’s boldness. “Perhaps,” was all she offered. Morgana was surprised she did not try to deny it, yet said nothing in response.

After a long moment’s pause, Morgana steered the conversation back to its original course. “The ravens,” she mentioned, taking a few steps towards Nimueh. “You could call one forth for me? I need to send a letter and it is imperative that it cannot be traced back to here.”

“I could,” Nimueh replied, yet finished pointedly with, “But I won’t.” Morgana’s face fell, unable to understand why Nimueh wouldn’t help her. She did not have to wait long for an explanation though. “You are foolish to contact him so soon, Morgana; you will be expected to return once his response reaches you. You will not be allowing yourself proper time to be trained and should you go back there before you are, you will be slaughtered in your attempt to rescue the servant.”

“How do you know my business?” Morgana asked sharply, her face darkening as she took an angry step towards Nimueh. She did not trust the witch, she was sure of that now. “We haven’t told anyone on the Isle our intentions yet, so how is it that you know?”

Nimueh didn’t seem fazed by Morgana’s anger. “Like you, I am a Seer,” she explained calmly.

“I am no Seer.”

“No?” Nimueh asked, a hint of amusement in her tone as she circled her fount. “Have you not had any of your dreams come true then?”

That made Morgana pause. She didn’t really think of her dream about Morgause in such a way, yet Nimueh was right, it had come true. Still, it wasn’t as though it made much sense at the time. Morgana had always believed the things Seers saw were clear in their message; Nimueh’s seemed to be, after all. She knew far too many details for her dreams to be shrouded in confusing images, like Morgana’s were.

“You see the future in your dreams as well, then?” Morgana asked, her tone still sharp and accusing. She didn’t know what else to say other than that, as Nimueh had been correct in her assumption.

“No,” she told her, shaking her head. “The power to the see the future is a rare gift. I am a trained Seer, not a born one. I am merely able to view events as they occur, using this.” She motioned to her fount and Morgana took a few steps forward, peering into it.

“It just looks like water, to me.” Her tone held skepticism and she looked back up at Nimueh.

“That is because you lack the skill,” the witch told her, tone unkind with her harsh honesty. “You are a Seer and yet cannot conjure that which is there for you to see; the simplest of magick for someone of your kind to achieve. What good do you think you’ll do when you march on Camelot’s walls, when you know absolutely nothing?”

Morgana flushed in anger. “Do not speak to me that way; you do not know me nor what I am able to do.”

“You are foolish and uneducated,” Nimueh blatantly responded. She took a step towards her though, the intensity beneath her gaze making Morgana feel terribly uncomfortable. “But you have the potential to be one of the greatest sorceresses Albion has ever known, should you not be stupid enough to waste the opportunity you have been given.”

Morgana stared at her, beginning to hate the woman that stood in front of her. No one had never dared speak to her in such a manner. What made it worse was that Morgana knew Nimueh’s words held truth in them; what could she do, _really_ , should she leave the Isle untrained? Morgause’s magick could only bring them so far with a full frontal assault to the city. Not that she wished it would come to that, but perhaps she was foolish to ever hope for anything different. 

It pained Morgana to do so, but through clenched teeth she forced herself to ask, “What do you suggest then?”

Nimueh smiled, pleased that Morgana saw things her way. “Wait,” she told her. “The King does not know how far you are going to travel before you reach your destination. The longer you wait, the further he will assume you are; hence, the longer he will wait for you to return to him.”

Morgana chewed on the inside of her cheek. She did not want to wait; she needed to know if Gwen was safe. “I can’t,” she told her. “Foolish as it may be, I need to have the assurance that my friend is alright.”

“You do not need Uther’s words to find out the servant’s fate,” Nimueh told her before backing up a few steps. “Come,” she beckoned her, leading her back to the fount. Morgana followed, her heart beginning to beat heavily in her chest. She feared what Nimueh would show her. What if Gwen had already been killed? She could not bear the thought.

“ _Ostende mihi veritatem,_ ” Nimueh whispered as she waved her hand over the water in the basin. Morgana’s eyes widened as the water changed, becoming a vision of Gwen, locked in the dungeons of Camelot. She looked frightened, yet was unharmed. Tears sprang to Morgana’s eyes as she looked upon her friend; she was relieved to see that she was alive, yet her heart clenched with guilt as she saw what her freedom had cost her.

“If you wish, I will show you your friend every day that you’re here, so that you may be assured that she is unharmed,” Nimueh offered. As the vision of Gwen disappeared and the basin was filled with nothing but water once more, Morgana looked up at her.

“Why?” she asked, wondering what was in it for Nimueh. “Why would you help me?” 

“Because you will be the one to bring about Uther Pendragon’s destruction,” Nimueh told her without hesitation. Her eyes gleamed with excitement. “And I have waited many years to see his end.”

“No,” Morgana told her, shaking her head. She took a few steps back from her. “You have the wrong person. I merely wish to rescue my friend, that is all.”

“You cannot fight your destiny, Morgana, no more than you can stop the world from turning.”

Morgana stared at her, stomach weighing heavy with upset. She did not like how assured Nimueh was when she said that. Though she was angry with Uther for what he had done to their kind, he had still taken care of her for many years. She did not wish to see him dead; she would rather see him come to his senses about magick.

But perhaps that was far too much to hope for.

**TBC…**


	17. Lineage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Like an idiot, I started watching _Once Upon a Time_ even though I knew full well I'd probably get obsessed with it. I started writing a multichapter fic for that fandom as well, so I've decided to update both fics only once per week so I don't end up getting behind on either. When I do finally complete this story though, the update rate will increase to twice a week again.

**CHAPTER XVII  
Lineage**

When Morgana returned to her room, she was momentarily startled to see it occupied by Morgause. Though they shared living quarters, she did not expect her… _sister_ to come back so soon; she knew how furious Morgana was with her. So she stopped dead in the threshold, her face masking in disapproval as she watched Morgause rise from her seat on their bed to greet her.

“I know you do not wish to see me,” Morgause started, her tone apologetic. She could barely meet her gaze, and rightfully so. She had every reason to be ashamed of herself and Morgana had no desire to relieve her of that burden just yet. “I just… I wanted to tell you that I’ve asked Llamrei to make other arrangements for you. After this morning, I thought it best to assume that you no longer wished to share a bed with me.”

“You assumed correctly,” Morgana told her flatly. The hurt in Morgause’s eyes tore the Ward’s heart in half, but she stood her ground. If they ever wished to move past this, Morgause needed to give her space. 

Morgause brushed the hair from her eyes, yet still looked everywhere but at Morgana. “I don’t know how long it will take until she can find somewhere for you,” she told her. “So in the meantime, you are welcome to my bed. I will find somewhere else to sleep.”

That made Morgana pause. “And who do you expect will share their bed with you?” she asked, a bit of an accusation in her tone. Though Morgause had told her that she was the only one, with everything else she had lied about, Morgana found it hard to believe anything her sister said anymore.

“Even if someone should offer, I would never lie in anyone’s bed but yours. I would rather sleep for a thousand years on jagged rocks than have anyone else beside me, Morgana.”

Morgana’s heart clenched and her cheeks flushed crimson. It wasn’t fair, how Morgause made her feel. She was so angry with her, so mistrustful of her, yet her words made Morgana feel something too powerful to ignore. She hated it. 

“Stop it.”

“I’m sorry,” Morgause apologized, at least having the decency to look ashamed of herself. Morgana wished it made a difference, but the words could not be unsaid. “I only wished to be truthful.”

“Surprising, as you seemed to have such trouble with honesty before,” Morgana snapped, forcing herself to focus on her anger. It was the only thing that made any sense to her anymore. When she looked up at Morgause, all she saw was the pain of regret on her face.

“I’m so sorry,” Morgause told her, taking a step towards her. But when Morgana took a step back, Morgause halted, knowing better than to continue advancing on her. “I was afraid. I feel so much for you, Morgana, more than I would have ever thought possible. I didn’t want it to end.”

“That still didn’t give you the right to _lie_ to me!” Morgana shouted, pointing at her accusingly. Morgause’s gaze met the floor, her face coloring in shame. Her voice was small.

“I know…”

“I don’t trust you anymore, Morgause,” Morgana told her. Though her voice was strong, the Ward felt as though she were falling apart inside. “And you cannot _begin_ to know how much that pains me.”

Morgause chewed on her bottom lip, looking about as broken as Morgana felt. “I wish now that I had done things differently,” she admitted softly, “even if it meant never knowing what it would feel like to be with you. In the end, I value your trust above all else. I am so very sorry for having broken that.”

Morgana pursed her lips. Part of her ached to tell Morgause that she would never wish the time they had away, but she could not bring herself to say the words. It would be like admitting that she still felt for her, and though she did, she did not wish Morgause to know that right now. Morgana still did not know what that meant, or what she wished to do about it. Right now her heart ached and she just wished to drop the subject. She was not emotionally ready to forgive Morgause, so this conversation was futile.

Morgana was silent for a long time. For as badly as she wished to have space from her sister, she also knew that it would do more harm than good right now. “I need you to train me,” she told her finally, though would not meet her gaze while she said it. “I need to be ready for when we rescue Gwen, and Nimueh has made it painfully clear to me that I am nowhere near prepared. “

Morgause’s eyebrows rose at the mention of the other sorceress. “You spoke with Nimueh?” Morgana nodded.

“I went searching for someone who could send my letter to Uther. I found her in one of the towers.”

“She never leaves it,” Morgause told her. She peered at her sister for a moment before taking a step forward. “Morgana, I… I don’t think it’s wise that you told her of your plan to rescue Gwen.”

“I didn’t.”

Morgause’s expression turned puzzled, but realization dawned on her quickly. “Her fount,” she guessed. Morgana nodded, and was surprised when Morgause began to look rather irritated. “I should have known,” she said, shaking her head. “She is obsessed with Camelot, with Uther; she spends most of her time watching him through the damned thing. Her thirst for revenge has consumed her. She, of course, would see your need to rescue Gwen as an opportunity for herself.” She turned to Morgana, advising her, “You shouldn’t speak with her. She’ll manipulate you to her own ends, I’m sure of it.”

Morgana said nothing. Though she didn’t trust Nimueh, she did hold the power to see whether or not Gwen was safe. Until Morgana learned to do such a thing herself, she needed her. However, she did not wish to tell Morgause that; the last thing she wanted from her was a lecture. She didn’t have the right to it; not anymore.

“Well it is lucky for you then, that I do not trust so easily anymore.”

Morgana knew the words were harsh before they even came out of her mouth, yet she could not stop herself from saying it. Morgause looked away, hurt. “I deserved that,” she admitted softly. She swallowed hard before she looked back at her sister. “But I will still urge you to heed my warning. Nimueh is not the person she used to be and I fear what should happen should you get involved with her.”

“Regardless of your feelings about her, she raised a good point,” Morgana told her, not wishing to commit to a promise she knew she could not follow through with. “I need more time. I chose not to send my letter to Uther right away, so I can allot myself that. Still, we do not have forever. Do you wish to train me, or should I ask someone else?”

“Of course I do,” Morgause told her, without thought or hesitation. “But you must know, I may not be the best person for the task. Though I can teach you some things, I could never begin to further your abilities as a Seer, as I am not one.”

Morgana let out a heavy breath and shook her head, disbelievingly. “Another thing you failed to mention to me. I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

“If you don’t remember, after you discovered your magick, we were a little preoccupied!” Morgause defended, not wishing to take the blame for that. “I planned to tell you everything I knew about your magick once we got here, but first I wanted to make sure you were safe! Do not fault me for that, Morgana; I have done wrong by you, but prioritizing your safety is not among my list of faults.”

Morgana’s lips formed into a tight line, yet she did not retort. Perhaps she had jumped too quickly to anger, when Morgause was not to be blamed. At least, not for that. “What else do you know?” she asked finally, wishing to know as much as her sister did.

“Outside of you being a High Priestess yourself, that is all.”

Morgana’s eyebrows rose. “Me?” she asked, surprised. “But I thought that was a title given to those with the highest skill.” Morgause shook her head and Morgana wished she had asked before she assumed. It made her feel so foolish, how little she knew about her own kind, about herself.

“It is a birthright. It’s in our blood,” Morgause explained. “We inherited the title from our mother.”

_Our mother._ The words sounded so strange to her ears, yet they seemed to pull Morgana towards her. The connection they shared, whether blood linked or soulbonded, seemed even stronger now that Morgana knew the truth. She hated that and it took everything Morgana had to fight against it; she did not wish to confuse Morgause, or herself. She stopped after just a few steps, but the movement she made towards her did not go unnoticed by her sister.

“I promise you, Morgana,” Morgause began, her eyes swimming with emotion, “I will never hurt you again. If you believe nothing else that I say, I beg of you to believe that.”

The ridiculous thing was that, despite how much she distrusted Morgause now, Morgana believed her words without a second thought. There was no reason why she should, yet she knew in her heart that Morgause meant every word. And with time that knowledge, perhaps, might finally help Morgana start to forgive her.

[x]

Morgause’s back ached terribly. She had meant it when she said that she would not share a bed with anyone but Morgana, so she took to sleeping on the hard floor of the meditation chambers. Though Llamrei had offered to get her a cot, Morgause believed it better if she declined. She had done wrong by Morgana and thought it best that she deny herself the pleasure of comfort. She felt as though she deserved to be punished, and though it was nothing close to what she deserved, it was better than nothing at all.

It had been a week since Morgause had begun training her sister. Though Morgana was naturally gifted, she lacked focus. Morgause knew that between her worry for Gwen and her discomfort with being around Morgause after all that had happened, that it was only to be expected. Still, it worried her. Morgana was driven, but without the ability to really concentrate on what she was doing, training her would take more time than they had. Despite how badly she wished otherwise, Morgause wondered if it might be more prudent if Morgana was taught by someone else.

It was hard for her to bring herself to say the words, however. If she were unable to train her, Morgause feared that her sister would no longer have any reason to spend time with her. Still, her selfishness had already destroyed what was between them, and the last thing Morgause wanted to do was allow it to weaken Morgana’s abilities. So Morgause began asking around, seeing if anyone else was willing to teach her. 

But just as she exited the council chambers, having found a few elders willing to do so, she saw Morgana descending the staircase that led up to Nimueh’s tower. She quickly darted around the corner so she would not be seen and pressed her back against the wall. The pit of her stomach burned with disappointment, that her sister did not heed her warning. But mostly she was enflamed with anger towards Nimueh, and so once she was sure Morgana was gone, she stole up the stairs and entered Nimueh’s room.

The witch did not even bother to turn around. “I expected you here much sooner than this,” Nimueh told her, eyes still locked onto her fount. “Your lack of awareness disappoints me, Morgause.”

Morgause narrowed her eyes, not appreciating the woman’s mockery. “What is your business with my sister?” she demanded. Nimueh still did not turn around. It was perhaps that that bothered Morgause the most; it was as though she did not even regard her as worth the effort.

“I’m not sleeping with her, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Nimueh told her, sounding amused at Morgause’s expense. “That, I believe, is the position _you_ seek.”

Morgause colored in embarrassment, quickly growing angry. She strode towards her before she could think, her hands roughly connecting with Nimueh. “Jest about my affairs again and I promise you I will see that it is the last laugh you ever have!”

In moments she was blown backwards, pain shooting up her spine as she landed violently on her tailbone. Morgause groaned in pain. She should have expected that, but her anger had blinded her to rational thought. Nimueh towered over her, an intimidating look in her eyes. “If you value your hands, you will not touch me again,” she warned. Though Morgause was skilled, she knew she was not yet a match for Nimueh. She stayed down, yet glared at her fiercely. Gods, she hated this woman.

After a moment’s silence, Nimueh tilted her head as she assessed her. “I do not wish your sister harm,” she told Morgause finally. “She comes to me because I can show her that her friend is still alive, that is all.”

“Bullshit.”

Nimueh merely looked amused by Morgause’s disbelief. “You believe I have other intentions?”

Morgause pulled herself to her feet, trying not to wince in pain. She didn’t want to give Nimueh the satisfaction. “I know you do,” she told her strongly. “Everyone knows you’ve been biding your time up here, waiting for an opportunity like this. But if you think we will take you with us when we go to Camelot, you are dead wrong. You would do more harm than good.”

Nimueh arched an eyebrow at her. “You speak as though the elders would allow it, even if I wished to. You know that is not the case. I am watched constantly.”

That was true, but it still did not put Morgause’s mind at ease. “Then what exactly is your endgame here? You and I both know that you wouldn’t help Morgana unless it furthered your own ends; there must be a reason you have her continue to come back here.”

“Your sister is a Seer,” Nimueh told her, as though Morgause was stupid for not drawing to the obvious conclusion. “She needs training, to hone that ability. There is no one else on the Isle who is able to train her in that aspect, save me. I wish to get her to trust me, so that when the time comes to teach her she would be more receptive.”

“No,” Morgause told her strongly, shaking her head. “You’re not even a true Seer; you were trained, not born. You couldn’t help her in that aspect, not fully anyhow, and besides I will not allow it.”

“It’s not up to you,” Nimueh told her bluntly, a challenging look in her eye. “It may be hard for you to accept, but any of the elders will tell you the same thing; I am the best choice for the job. I have spent years studying the ways of the Sight; no one else here has the same claim. Your sister is the last of her kind, Morgause. If you wish her to learn the ways of her birthright, you will not stand in my way.”

“You’ll poison her mind!”

Nimueh smiled at her. It was not genuine in the slightest and it unnerved Morgause to her very core. “Now why would I have to do that, when the truth will do the job for me? So many of us know here, even your precious _aunt._ Even if I do not tell her, Morgana will learn who she truly is one day.”

Morgana’s eyebrows furrowed and a sinking feeling made camp in the pit of her stomach. “What are you talking about?” she demanded. She did not like that Nimueh mentioned Llamrei, for if what she was saying was true, then her aunt was keeping things from her as well.

“You never wondered why Morgana has hair as dark as night, while your mother and father were fair-haired?”

Morgause stared at her. No, if truth were told, she had never thought about it. “What are you getting at?” Was Nimueh trying to tell her that she wasn’t related to Morgana, like she was always led to believe? Morgause didn’t know how to feel about that and it made her stomach twist into knots.

Nimueh seemed to be taking a lot of pleasure in revealing the truth to Morgause. She took a step towards her as she spoke. “There was another that desired the Lady Vivienne,” she began. “So when your father was off to battle, he took her as his own. A child was born from his betrayal.”

“ _Who?_ ” Morgause demanded, getting irritated with Nimueh’s dramatics.

“You really do not know?” Nimueh asked, looking at Morgause as though she were being terribly thick. The blonde hated her for it. “The same man that had your mother murdered during the Purge. The same man that led your father to his death. The _very same man_ who Morgana looked at as a father figure all these years, not knowing how true that bond really was.”

Morgause felt nauseous and all the color drained from her face. “Uther,” she whispered, nearly choking on the words. She stared at Nimueh in disbelief, not wanting to see the truth in her words. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Doesn’t it?” Nimueh countered. “You never asked yourself why Vivienne chose to give Morgana to Uther instead of smuggling her out of the city with you, instead of leaving the city _herself_ with the both of you?” Morgause stayed silent. She could not speak even if she wished to; she found her throat had gone very dry. 

“The King knew Morgana was his from the moment she was born,” Nimueh explained to her. “That is why Vivienne knew she could not leave. When Uther finally found out the truth about what she was, he demanded to know if Vivienne’s gift would be passed down to her children, to _his_ child. It was he who ordered her to bind Morgana’s powers and hand her over to him, before he had your mother hanged for sorcery. He then sought to destroy _you,_ a child with magick who was not born from his own seed. You are lucky Vivienne foresaw this, for when the time came she had already given you to Llamrei and planted the lie of your demise during the riots.” 

Morgause didn’t know what to say. She was allotted too much information at once and it overwhelmed her, pushing the breath from her lungs. But it seemed Nimueh was not expecting an answer, at least not yet. She took another step towards her, continuing, “Do you not see the opportunity that we’ve been given? A sorceress is second in line to the throne of Camelot. Imagine how much could change, should she be able to take her birthright. We would no longer have to hide; we could be free once more.”

Morgause shook her head violently, backing up a few steps from the witch. “No,” she told her. “That is too much responsibility for a young girl to bear; I will not allow you to burden her with it. Morgana has gone through enough already!”

“It is the destiny she was _born_ for,” Nimueh hissed at her, displeased with Morgause’s noncompliance. “You cannot change that, no more than she can. You cannot shelter her from the world forever, Morgause; she will come into her own, with or without your help.”

“Stay away from her,” Morgause demanded, anger rising within her once more. Though she understood Nimueh’s perspective on the matter, and though it would be a blessing should magick no longer be condemned in Albion, she did not want something like this thrust on her younger sister. Not now. Morgana had gone through so much; she did not need this weight of responsibility on her shoulders. Perhaps one day, when she was older, but this was too much too fast. Morgause did not wish to overwhelm her and she would not allow Nimueh to do so.

“You cannot stop it,” Nimueh told her, her tone unapologetic. “Despite your caution, the girl will continue to come to me. I hold the power to show her that which gives her comfort. And if you continue to defy me, I will make sure that she is forever unable to trust you. I will make sure it is _I_ she comes to for comfort,” her gaze turned vicious as she finished, “in _every_ sense of the word.”

The rage inside of Morgause became overwhelming. It built up inside of her so quickly that she had no way to control it. The ground rumbled, the glass in the window panes shattered. “You will not _touch_ her!” she bellowed, the mere thought sending Morgause to madness. She conjured fire in her hand and it barreled towards Nimueh, who quickly raised her own, stilling it. Her eyes glowed gold as she dissipated the flame, lightning being cast from her fingertips shortly afterwards. Morgause had to drive out of the way to avoid it.

“ _What did I tell you?!_ ” Nimueh shouted, her own anger starting to get the best of her. Pieces of the walls began to crumble around them and Morgause had to cover her head to avoid being hit by the debris. A part of her was frightened, to have antagonized someone of Nimueh’s ability and skill, but it paled in comparison to her need to protect Morgana. She quickly threw out her hand, successfully managing to hurl Nimueh backwards. The witch collided with the wall, but not as hard as Morgause would have liked.

“You foolish girl,” Nimueh spat as she composed herself. “Morgana is not _yours._ She is merely an instrument to our cause. She will lead us back to power; it is her destiny. Your feelings for her blind you from the truth and if it begins to blind her as well, I _will_ see it end.”

“You will not take her from me!”

“Oh you stupid, stupid child,” Nimueh goaded, laughing cruelly. “Haven’t you already managed to do that yourself?”

A pillar of fire rose up between the two women, blowing Morgause’s hair back as it illuminated the rage on her face. She wanted to hurt her; more than she ever wished to hurt anyone in her entire life. But before she could send it towards Nimueh, her whole body froze. It was as though invisible ropes bound her, and at first she believed the spell to be cast by Nimueh, but when she looked at her she realized that she too was bound.

“ _Enough!_ ”

Both women turned to see Llamrei in the doorway, looking positively enraged. Both of her hands were held out, separating the two sorceresses whilst she bound them in place. “ _Idiot_ children,” she spat. “Do you wish to bring the whole castle down on us? You will stop this foolishness _right now._ ”

The binding spell broke so suddenly that it made both women collapse. Nimueh looked positively murderous, to have been bested so easily like that. But Llamrei was much older, so much more skilled. She should not have been surprised.

“Morgause, come with me,” Llamrei commanded. “ _Now._ ” Morgause quickly picked herself up, feeling ashamed of herself. She hated to disappoint Llamrei, even if Nimueh did deserve that which she had given her and more. She stood behind her aunt, yet did not move to leave just yet.

“And _you,_ ” Llamrei said, turning towards Nimueh. “If you know what is good for you, you will stay away from my daughter.”

“She is not your _daughter._ ”

The words were meant to sting Llamrei, but they didn’t seem to faze her in the slightest. “She is as good as,” she answered passionately. “And I will not have you harm her. The elders let you stay here out of pity for all you have gone through, but I swear on the Goddess herself I can see your home taken from you with just a few words. Do _not_ test me.”

Nimueh glared at her, but knew well enough to say nothing. Behind Llamrei, Morgause smirked. But the moment her aunt turned around and caught her she snapped, “What are you looking so pleased with yourself for? I have never been more disappointed with you in my entire life; _now get downstairs._ ”

Shame colored Morgause’s face and she turned, doing as she was told. When she heard Nimueh cackle behind her, it took everything she had not to turn around and come at her again. Despite how she felt about her, she knew Llamrei had every reason to be angry with her; their rage nearly brought the castle down around them. 

But Morgause still couldn’t help but wonder if it would have been worth it, if it had made her able to prevent Nimueh from taking the one thing she valued the most.

**TBC…**


	18. The Broken Road to Perfection

**CHAPTER XVIII  
The Broken Road to Perfection**

Morgana had no idea what was going on.

After the ground shook beneath her, she came out of her room to see Llamrei angrily leading Morgause down the hallway. When they passed her, Morgause couldn’t even look at her. Her head was turned down, shame coloring her cheeks. Llamrei looked positively livid and once she had Morgause in her bedroom, she slammed the door behind her. Morgana could hear the muffled sounds of screaming coming from within; she could not make out the words, but after a moment she realized it was not just Llamrei who was shouting. Morgause sounded furious with her as well, which furthered Morgana’s curiosity. 

It was some time until Morgause exited her aunt’s bedchambers. She still looked enraged and she stalked past Morgana, not even sparing her a glance. Morgana wondered if her sister could even see her, or if she was so wrapped up in her anger that the world was blinded to her. Despite knowing she probably should not, Morgana followed her out of the castle and down to the shore.

Morgause did not seem to realize she had company, for she did not turn around. Morgause stood a half yard from the edge of the water, a strong, sudden wind beginning to whip her hair back from her face. Morgana could feel the power within her sister rise so sharply that she instinctively took a step backwards. As Morgause raised her hands above her head, the booming tone her voice took seemed to shake the very ground beneath them. Morgana had never heard anything more fascinating, or more frightening. 

“ _Numen aquae, obsecro autem vos,_ ” Morgause began, and Morgana watched wide-eyed as the water of the lake began to shift and move. _“Accipe ira mea; da eam ad mare!”_

Like two pillars, the sea suddenly parted before Morgause and the Ward could not contain her gasp. She watched as the water rose, towering so high over Morgause that Morgana feared it would collapse on top of her and claim her sister’s life in an instant. Morgause made a quick hand movement as she screamed something into the wind before the water fell back down to earth. Its weight shook the ground underneath Morgana, knocking her over. She could not contain her scream as the contact splashed the sea over both of them, drenching them from head to toe.

Morgause turned around, having heard her.

Morgana was on her backside in the sand, looking up at Morgause in amazement. Though she knew her sister only toyed with the elements to find some other way to manage her rage, the power in it astounded Morgana. Morgause was breathing heavily, her blonde hair framing her face in wet ringlets. She looked as though she didn’t know what to do now that Morgana was here and she was frozen in place. Morgana was too, but for an entirely different reason.

Her beauty was positively mesmerizing. Frightening, even; yet it was a fear Morgana wished to always have within her. Morgause’s white tunic, drenched from the water, clung to her every curve. The sunlight illuminated her skin, revealing her dusky nipples beneath her clothing. As drops of water rolled down her flesh, Morgana watched as they disappeared within her heaving bosom. Morgause was furious, she was frightened, she was broken; yet her form was so glorious that Morgana felt as though she couldn’t breathe.

“I will not let her take you from me.”

Her words were carried to Morgana in the wind and the Ward inhaled a shallow breath. Her sister’s promise was so fiercely protective that it tied her stomach into knots and made her heart swell with all the love she had been working so hard to suppress. She was unsure of who Morgause was talking about, as she didn’t think anyone had an interest to. It seemed, though, that she was unaware of a great many things.

“She’s wrong,” Morgause told her, emotion in her voice as she gradually made her way over to Morgana. The brunette found she could not move. Morgause’s eyes shown with fresh tears, her voice beginning to break, “You’re not an instrument, you’re a _person._ Our fate is what we make of it, and I will not allow her to control yours. I won’t allow _any_ of them to!”

Morgana wanted to speak, but she found her words stuck in her throat as suddenly Morgause fell to her knees before her. Morgana pushed herself to sit upright with her hands, an overwhelming need to be closer to her sister consuming her whole. She could feel Morgause’s breath on her lips and it made her dizzy. 

“She will poison you,” Morgause breathed, the soft words sounding painful for her to utter. She reached out and cupped Morgana’s cheek possessively, looking at her in a way that made Morgana’s loins ache with need. “Lead you to your death, just to further her own ends,” she continued, voice cracking from the strain her emotions had put on her. She shook her head, a tear falling down her cheek. “I couldn’t bare it. I need you, Morgana, more than I have ever needed anyone in my entire life. My love for you consumes me, drowns me… but I would gladly die beneath its weight, for it has been the most wonderful thing I have ever known.”

Morgana’s throat constricted and tears welled up in her eyes. She covered Morgause’s hand on her cheek with her own, feeling the truth and love in her sister’s words. For a moment, she couldn’t remember why she was so angry with her, but perhaps she needed not to in that moment. She took a shuddered inhale of breath as the first tear fell from her eye. Morgause wiped it away with her thumb before she drew closer to her, resting her forehead against hers as she closed her eyes.

“I am so hopelessly in love with you, Morgana,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “And though I know that is not something you need to hear right now, I don’t know how to contain it any longer. I feel as though I cannot breathe without you.”

Morgana’s fingers tangled in her sister’s hair, pulling her towards her in a desperate attempt to show Morgause how her words made her feel. As their lips collided, Morgana realized she didn’t want to be anywhere else but in this moment; it wrapped her up and devoured her sanity, but she reveled in the freedom it provided her. Her back landed in the sand as she pulled Morgause on top of her, the feeling of her sister’s warmth eliciting a soft moan that was swallowed by the blonde’s tongue.

It didn’t matter that they were blood, Morgana could see that now. It did not change how she felt about her, or how it felt to be with her. To deny herself the pleasure based solely on linage was nothing short of masochistic, and Morgana did not wish to do that any longer. Rebuilding her trust in Morgause would still take time, but honestly it was the last thing the Ward wanted to think about in that moment. _Morgause was in love with her;_ nothing else mattered but that. The world could burn to ash around them and Morgana knew that she would happily perish in the flames, holding onto the only thing that had ever made her feel truly alive.

“Forgive me,” Morgause begged against her lips. A tear fell from her eye and landed on Morgana’s cheek. “Please, Morgana, forgive me. I love you, please forgive me…” The sorrow in her sister’s chanted plea made Morgana’s heart shatter within her chest.

“Shh,” she hushed softly, brushing the hair from Morgause’s face. Her fingers delicately traced her jaw line as Morgana stared into her eyes. “No matter how angry I may get with you, I will always be yours,” she breathed, the truth in her own words making her tremble in both fear and desire. The feeling was more intense than everything Morgana had ever known and though it scared her, she welcomed it with open arms, for it made her feel like she had come home. “You are as much a part of me as I am of you, Morgause.”

Lips connected once more and the world blurred around them. Their tongues sought to drink everything that the other was, backs arching as clothing tore beneath a feverish grip. Morgana’s eyes fluttered closed as her sister’s lips found the base of her neck, claiming her as her own. She cried out from the soft pinch of delicious pain as she gripped Morgause’s tunic harder, nearly ripping it clean in half. Morgana writhed beneath her sister’s body, Morgause’s hot breath in her ear sending waves of pleasure straight to her core. She wanted to lose herself in the feeling; it shot fire through her veins and ignited a passion Morgana didn’t even knew she had within her. She needed Morgause to consume her, completely.

After all, her heart already belonged to her sister. And right then, Morgana realized that she wished nothing more than to offer her body to Morgause’s mercy, as she was sure it would shatter the sanity from her mind, leaving behind the blissful nothingness that Morgana so badly craved to feel.

[x]

Morgause had not been expecting this. She was just so angry when she came down to the beach; with Nimueh, with Llamrei. She should not have found out the truth in such a way and it hurt her deeply that her aunt would keep something of such importance from her.

But it hurt Morgause even worse to find that Llamrei agreed that Nimueh should be the one to teach Morgana about her abilities as a Seer. Though it was no secret that Llamrei was not fond of the witch, she said it would be foolish of them both to not realize that Nimueh was Morgana’s only option. The true Seers had died out during the Purge, and though Nimueh was merely trained in it, she was the closest to the real thing. It enraged Morgause that her aunt would allow Morgana to be taught by someone so vengeful and manipulative.

It made her wonder if Llamrei secretly agreed with Nimueh; that Morgana’s blood relation to Uther could and _should_ be used to their advantage. Morgause hated the very thought of it, solely because something like that was Morgana’s choice to make. Morgause had rescued her from a place where everything in her life was decided for her, and she did _not_ do that just so everyone on the Isle could try to do the very same thing. Morgana was a person, not a pawn in their little war game. 

It overwhelmed her, the lack of control that she had with the situation. It chewed her up and spit her back out again, leaving Morgause feeling rather raw, beaten, and emotional. _So_ emotional. And it all came tumbling out; everything, all of her feelings, all of the truth Morgause had in her, until she had nothing more to give. Morgana had taken her everything and Morgause desperately needed her to understand that; to know that she had her heart, her soul, her tears, her love. 

Though part of Morgause believed that after what she had done her promise of everything wouldn’t be enough, Morgana found what it was that she needed in it. She wrapped her up, completed her heart, and breathed her whispered love into Morgause’s very soul. It was intoxicating, it was mesmerizing.

Morgana’s fingers explored her flesh, pulling the remnants of her damp and tattered tunic from her form. Morgause exhaled a heavy breath as the chill in the air made her nipples tighten beneath her sister’s gaze, but warmth returned to her as Morgana’s mouth covered her breast. Morgause’s fingers tightened in dark ringlets as she breathed her sister’s name into the stillness of nature, finding that when her eyes closed, stars danced beneath her lids.

“You’re beautiful,” Morgana murmured against her skin, her lips ascending up Morgause’s collar bone. Her fingers nimbly untied the laces that bound Morgause’s trousers, her hands trembling with nervousness over the experience they were about to have with one another. 

Before she finished her task, Morgana’s fear seemed to envelop her for a moment and she buried her head in the crook of her sister’s neck. “I want…” she tried softly, her thumbs slipping beneath the confines of Morgause’s clothing. She was trying to work up the courage and Morgause’s heart beat wildly in her chest, silently waiting for the rest of her sister’s words. “I _need,_ ” Morgana corrected herself finally, breathlessly, “to see all of you…”

Morgause closed her eyes as she leaned in, capturing Morgana’s lips with her own in a fierce kiss. When they broke, Morgause rested her forehead against her sister’s, her breathing erratic as she nodded her compliance. Her hands found Morgana’s and she slowly, purposefully, urged her to undress her. The chill in the air elicited goose pimples across her ivory flesh, but the flush that tinted her skin once Morgana looked at everything she had to offer warmed Morgause from the inside out. Their chests heaving, the two women stared at each other for a long moment.

And then something primal snapped in Morgana.

She violently pushed Morgause down on her back, covering her body with her own as their lips smashed against one another. Her fingernails digging into her hip, she rolled her body against Morgause’s and swallowed the moan that followed. Desperate to see all of her sister, Morgause began tearing at the dress that covered her form. Morgana eagerly helped her rid of it. 

Morgause’s plea was desperate, wanton. “I need you…!”

“You have me,” Morgana breathed as she threw her shift over her head, allowing it to lie forgotten in the sand. Morgause’s eyes drank up her form, running her hands up the curve of Morgana’s hips and over her breasts. She was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the most beautiful creature Morgause had ever laid eyes upon. The sight took her breath away; she couldn’t believe that she was real, that Morgana was _hers._

Morgause could see the apex of her sister’s thighs glistening in arousal and it was almost too much to bear. Without thought, she ran her fingers through Morgana’s folds. The Ward’s eyes fluttered closed and she groaned, looking as though Morgause’s touch had made her rather lightheaded. Morgana’s desire, her _need_ consumed Morgause and she pulled her towards her, colliding their lips in a wave of passion as she coaxed her sister to lie on her side next to her.

Morgana’s legs parted and her head collapsed into the sand as Morgause continued sliding her fingers over her sex. She hoisted herself upwards to lie halfway on top of Morgana, her breathing erratic with need as she looked down at her sister. The Ward’s face was etched in pleasure, every exhaled breath becoming the sweetest of moans. Her fingers dug into Morgause’s arm, encouraging her not to stop. Morgana breathed her name and it was then that Morgause found she could not take it any longer.

“I need to be inside of you,” she told her breathlessly, completely consumed by the feeling it invoked within her. Morgause needed to be a part of her, to complete her; the need made her loins ache and her heart to beat erratically in her chest.

Morgana bit her bottom lip as she tried to come to her senses enough to look at her. Morgause stilled her hand, waiting for her answer. After a moment Morgana asked, her voice small, “Will it hurt…?” She looked wary of the possibility, though Morgause would have been foolish not to expect it.

“I don’t know.” Morgause had never asked Llamrei about sex before, as she believed up until she met Morgana that she had no need for such foolish desires. Now she wished she had. Morgause did not have any words of experience to give Morgana, so instead she took her sister’s hand in hers, guiding it towards the apex of her thighs. “Perhaps we should find out together,” she suggested breathlessly, knowing it was the best she could offer at the moment. If it did hurt, at least they would not be alone in their pain.

Morgana closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against Morgause’s shoulder as she took a shuddered inhale of breath, the feeling of her sister’s arousal overwhelming her. After a moment, she nodded and Morgause leaned down, gently kissing her lips. “Go slow,” she whispered, not just a reminder to Morgana but herself as well. Though Morgause wanted nothing more than to just push her fingers inside of her and consume all that her sister was, if it did end up being painful, it would not give Morgana the pleasure Morgause wished her to receive.

She allowed Morgana to move first. When her fingers entered her, Morgause winced from the feeling and tightly shut her eyes, her breathing coming out in short, rapid bursts. It felt as though Morgana was stretching her insides, and the feeling was intensely uncomfortable. Though it hurt, the pain was bearable. It felt strange, more than anything else, to have someone else fill her in such a way. Once she got used to it, she was able to breathe a lot easier.

After her head cleared, Morgause suddenly realized that her fingers were all of the way inside of Morgana. They slipped inside of her with such ease that once Morgause registered what had happened, shock colored her face. “You’ve done this before?” she asked Morgana, the tightness she was feeling now constricting her chest. She didn’t know what to think about that. She was sure a very large part of her despised the thought though.

“No,” Morgana answered, looking just as perplexed as she was. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, caught in a place between confusion and desire. “I… I don’t know; perhaps my body is just different from yours?”

Morgause considered the possibility. As it seemed her sister was genuinely surprised that her opening wasn’t as restrictive as Morgause’s was, she was inclined to believe that a difference in body types had to be the reason. It wasn’t as though Morgana seemed terribly versed in the ways of sex either; she was just as tentative about it as Morgause was. But Morgana seemed worried now that they felt differently and she asked, “Does it matter…?” She looked as though the possibility would completely devastate her should Morgause confirm her fear.

The blonde touched her face, cupping Morgana’s cheek with her free hand. “Of course not,” Morgause told her strongly. She had dreamed of this moment ever since the night she took to pleasuring herself in a foolish attempt to relieve her of the desire she held for her sister. Since then her need to have Morgana, utterly and completely, grew to become something wanton, akin to obsession. When Morgause closed her eyes at night, she thought of what it would be like to have her sister writing beneath her, face etched in ecstasy with Morgause’s name on her lips. Now, she was finally able to find out. 

Only a fool would ever trade such a moment, and Morgause was no fool.

“Lie back,” she breathed against her lips as she moved her own body, encouraging Morgana to follow direction as she situated herself on top of her. However Morgause quickly found that in this position, it was difficult for both of them to be inside of one another simultaneously, so she gently guided Morgana’s hand away from her sex. Her sister let out a small whimper of disapproval but Morgause hushed her before kissing her gently on the lips.

“It’s alright,” she told her breathlessly. “We can switch positions afterwards. I just… I, I just want…” The words didn’t matter. Morgause gave up on speaking, finding her thoughts to be unimportant in the grand scheme of things, and as she began to kiss Morgana once more she rocked her hips against the back of her hand, allowing the movement to enhance the feeling every time Morgause slid her fingers deeper within her. 

The groan she elicited from Morgana made her skin hum and the pit of her stomach burn with satisfaction. Morgause so wished that her sister could touch her as well, but she knew her patience would be well worth it. They had time. They had forever, after all, for Morgause knew in that moment that she could never imagine doing this with anyone else. It had been and always would be Morgana; she would love her to the ends of the earth and back again, until the day came that she exhaled her dying breath and joined the stars above them. 

Morgana’s breathing was becoming ragged, her skin flushed and warm. As Morgause quickened her movements Morgana cried out her name, grasping at the skin of her back as she arched into her desperately. “I want… _mmph,_ ” Morgana panted, trying to get out her thought through her haze of pleasure. Morgause smiled, loving that she was able to make her sister feel such a thing. It looked beautiful, dizzying, completely breathtaking. “I need…” Morgana tried again, “you to… to feel this…! _Fuck,_ Morgause —oh!”

Despite how she was feeling, Morgana suddenly looked horrified by her language and one of her hands flew up to cover her mouth. Morgause couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s alright, love,” she breathed, coaxing Morgana’s hand back where it belonged. “Express it in whatever way you wish; you cannot offend me. Honestly, it was rather…” but Morgause didn’t finish; instead she bit her bottom lip as she replayed her sister’s rude word over again in her mind, a fresh wave of arousal coating her thighs. She actually found it incredibly sexy, to hear someone as well brought up as Morgana come undone enough to speak in such a manner.

“But—!”

Morgana was no doubt about to protest that Ladies do not say things like that, but right now was definitely not a time for conversation. Morgause cut off her words by a firm roll of her hips, pushing her fingers as far as they would go inside of her sister. Morgana cried out, her eyes rolling in the back of her head as she forgot everything she had ever known. It was just that feeling, this moment. Everything else turned to black around them and Morgause wouldn’t have it any other way. 

When her thumb slipped over her sister’s clitoris, Morgana shuddered and gasped. Morgause kissed her fiercely, the light sheen of sweat that now covered their bodies making it easier for them to slide against one another. “Say it again,” she panted feverishly, wanting to hear Morgana speak once more in the way that made her insides clench with need. “Please,” Morgause begged, knowing her sister would not do it unless Morgana realized how much she found she enjoyed it.

Morgana flushed again, her fingernails breaking the skin on Morgause’s back as she slammed her hips rather violently against her hand. She buried her head in Morgause’s shoulder, seemingly too embarrassed to have Morgause see her face when she obliged her request. “Fuck,” she breathed against her skin. It was said softly between labored breaths, as she was still unsure of herself. But with each passing stroke and her sister’s matched groans as Morgause got even more aroused by her words, Morgana began to grow louder. “Fuck, Morgause, _fuck…!_ ” Her head fell back against the sand once more and she grasped for her, pressing Morgause’s breasts against her own as Morgana pushed into her. “Fuck me! Morgause, please— _oh!_ ”

Morgause came undone. The smell of sex surrounding them, Morgana’s heaving breath and shaking limbs, made the blonde feel dizzy and out of control. She couldn’t take it anymore. As she coaxed her sister over the peak, Morgause’s other hand fell between her legs. “Don’t—!” Morgana tried to plead, but her voice was hoarse and she was shaking from head to toe, unable to move to stop her.

“I’m sorry,” Morgause panted against her lips as she straddled her sister’s thigh, knowing she needed Morgana to be a part of this somehow, even though she would still be doing all of the work. “I can’t take it anymore, I can’t…!” 

It was the honest truth, for it only took a few grinds against her sister’s thigh to press her fingers against her sex in just the right way. Morgause’s vision flashed white and she shuddered on top of Morgana, gasping the Ward’s name one final time before her body went limp and she collapsed against her. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t see. But _oh,_ how Morgause reveled every moment of it. It was, honestly, the most glorious thing she had ever experienced.

Then Morgana shoved her. Hard.

Morgause grunted in displeasure as she rolled off of her, looking down at Morgana with an irritated look on her face. “What was that for?” she demanded, frustrated that Morgana had disrupted the only moment of blissful peace that Morgause had ever experienced in her lifetime. But it quickly dissipated as she realized Morgana looked hurt.

“You should have let _me_ do that!”

_Oh._

Morgause’s face masked in apology. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, still a little out of breath from their encounter. She bit her lower lip softly, not realizing before what she robbed Morgana of. Morgause wracked her brain for a suitable compromise, until the obvious one finally came to her. But with how she was feeling right then, she wasn’t surprised that it took her that long to reach it. Morgause smiled at her sister, cupping the back of her neck as she pulled Morgana in for a kiss. “But we don’t have to be done,” she breathed against her lips, trying to sound enticing.

As it turned out, she didn’t need to.

“I _know_ we’re not done,” Morgana said firmly. Her commanding tone made Morgause groan in approval; watching her sister come out of her shell was probably the most arousing part in all of this. So as she allowed Morgana to push her back into the sand and climb on top of her with the sole purpose of taking her breath, her sanity, her everything… Morgause knew that she would never want it any other way.

_This_ was her perfection.

**TBC…**


	19. Lessons

**CHAPTER XIX  
Lessons**

“I don’t like this at all.”

Morgause was pacing back and forth, growing increasingly uncomfortable with the present situation. Her aunt let out an exasperated sigh and placed her hands on her hips; this was hardly the first time she was hearing of Morgause’s disapproval. In fact, the blonde had made a point to express her unease with the situation at nearly every chance she got that day, hoping that Llamrei would change her mind.

“Then it is lucky for Morgana, that this is not up to you,” the woman said pointedly before turning towards the Ward. “Come along, dear, Nimueh is waiting for you in the western tower.” Morgana followed Llamrei obediently, but not without glancing back towards her sister with apprehension. It made the pit of Morgause’s stomach twist into knots.

“Wait!” she called out, causing her aunt to exhale an impatient breath as she turned around. Morgause knew she was being rather repetitive, but she could tell that it wasn’t just her that was uncomfortable with this plan. Morgana had realized rather quickly, after Morgause’s constant protests that day, that it had been Nimueh who she was speaking of on the beach yesterday. “Let me go with her,” Morgause pleaded, not wanting her sister to be alone with such a woman.

Really, Morgause was pretty sure she hated Nimueh to her very core. She was positively _wretched._

“This doesn’t concern you, Morgause,” Llamrei told her patiently, despite her lack of it at the moment. “And besides, earlier you said yourself that you need to work on your conjuring. Outside of fire, you _do_ seem to be terribly unskilled with it. Though I suppose that is because you seem to lack the care for any other element.”

Morgause glowered. She did not need a reminder of her failures, thank you. Besides, fire was mesmerizing, powerful; she adored every aspect of it. Who wouldn’t? But Morgause knew she had trouble in other areas because of her one-track fascination and was willing to work on her weaknesses, but not yet. Not now.

“If it isn’t too much trouble, I think I would be more comfortable if Morgause were to accompany me,” Morgana requested. Morgause was thankful for her words, as they seemed to make Llamrei consider the offer at least. “If no other time, then at least just this once.”

Llamrei sighed. “Very well,” she relented. Morgause looked elated that her aunt had agreed, as she would be able to protect Morgana better that way. But her smile quickly faded as Llamrei turned to her and pointedly finished, “But if the castle starts to come down again, _so help me,_ Morgause.”

Morgause averted her gaze, cheeks coloring in embarrassment at being lectured in front of Morgana. “Understood,” she said quietly.

After they had climbed the stairs to the tower, the three women stood in the threshold of Nimueh’s door. When the sorceress turned around, her face soured at the sight of Morgause. “I did not send for _her,_ ” she told Llamrei, the distaste evident in her tone.

“Morgana requested that she be here,” Llamrei told her, her voice indicating that it was not up for discussion. “As she is our guest, that will be obliged. If you have a problem with it, you may bring it up with the council; however, for now, Morgause is to stay. Is that understood?”

Nimueh said nothing. She merely continued to stare down Morgause, in an effort to intimidate her. Though her gaze made her uncomfortable, Morgause made a point to smirk in response, knowing that it would irritate her. It worked. Nimueh, knowing that she could do nothing about it, scoffed in aggravation, yet obliged, “ _Fine._ But she is to stay in the corner and is not to speak; I do not need her distracting us.”

“You heard her,” Llamrei told Morgause. The blonde clenched her jaw, not enjoying those terms very much, but said nothing. When her aunt turned to leave though, she paused momentarily to whisper in Morgause’s ear, “Do not do anything foolish.” Despite knowing she may not be able to comply with that request, Morgause nodded. Llamrei turned then, exiting the room and closing the door behind her.

An uncomfortable silence enveloped the room.

“I believe congratulations are in order,” Nimueh began after a moment, her eyes locked on to Morgause to convey more meaning behind her spoken word, “on your new _position,_ Morgause. Well done.”

Morgause’s eyes flashed with anger at her words, yet she stayed silent. She knew what Nimueh meant; yesterday the witch had made it very clear that she knew what position Morgause wished to hold in Morgana’s life. However, she did not want her sister to know that Nimueh was all too aware of what level their relationship had reached, as it would only embarrass her. Though it pained her to do so, she bit the inside of her cheek to bite back a retort.

However, that unfortunately did not stop Morgana from asking, “What do you mean?” She turned to Morgause then to ask, “What position do you now hold? Did the council allot you another title?” Morgana looked confused on why Morgause wouldn’t tell her something like that, but the blonde did not get a chance to tell her that it was nothing, that Nimueh was just being an irritating little flea and to disregard anything that she said.

Nimueh chuckled, amused with what she was about to do to Morgause. She spoke, however, only to Morgana. “Come, child; there is something I wish for you to see.” She walked over to the broken remnants of the window Morgause had shattered no more than a sunrise ago, beckoning Morgana to follow her.

“Morgana, don’t,” Morgause pleaded, trying to caution her sister from being thrown into a feud she was not prepared to be in the middle of. But her sister did not listen, her curiosity getting the best of her. She followed Nimueh until she was standing beside her, looking out the window.

“Do you see?” Nimueh asked, pointing out at something below them. “Just there.” Morgana looked for a long time, not realizing what it was that Nimueh was showing her at first.

Suddenly, she went pale.

As Morgana stumbled away from the window, her face going from white to the brightest shade of red imaginable, Morgause snapped. “What is wrong with you?” she demanded. “What pleasure could embarrassing my sister possibly bring you? If you feel the need to toy with anyone, then do it to me; it is I that you dislike, not her.”

“This _is_ how I toy with you, dear,” Nimueh answered, her tone condescending and cruel. “You care for your sister more than you care for yourself. _She_ is your weakness, and it is the love you hold for her that will destroy you in the end, should you not learn to keep your sinful little dalliances behind closed doors, where they belong. You make it far too easy, I must say. Take this as a lesson, and also as a warning: I do not take kindly to those who disrupt my plans, especially when they should know better by now.”

Morgana’s hand was still to her mouth, her eyes wide. “You saw…?” she whispered, having recognized the spot where she and Morgause had made love yesterday on the beach.

“And _heard,_ ” Nimueh told her, her tone much too straightforward for such a delicate subject. “And not just me, you know. You both caused quite a lot of attention to yourselves yesterday. But then, what else could you expect, being both out in the open and irritatingly _loud._ You really do have quite the mouth on you, Morgana; I’m not sure whether I should be impressed or disgusted, but no matter…”

“Stop it!” Morgause demanded, glaring at Nimueh as she took Morgana into her arms. Her sister hid her face in her neck, too embarrassed to face the world. For someone of Morgana’s status, something like this was positively unbearable. Morgause could feel her sister’s tears begin to dampen her tunic and it took every ounce of control she had in her not to throw Nimueh out of that damned window. “You’ve made your point, now _drop it._ Can’t you see that she’s had enough?”

Nimueh raised a challenging eyebrow, but then assessed Morgana’s current state. “Very well,” she said, as though the topic suddenly bored her. “Shall we begin then?”

Morgause looked at her in disbelief. “Right, because I’m sure Morgana is just anxiously awaiting her lesson from you now, you disillusioned _sociopath._ ” Nimueh merely clicked her tongue in impatience, shrugging lightly. Morgause scowled at her.

She led Morgana to the farthest corner of the room, away from Nimueh. “Hey,” Morgause prodded gently, coaxing her sister to look at her. Morgana’s tear-stained cheeks broke her heart and Morgause wiped them away with her thumbs before cradling her face gently in her hands. “She’s lying,” she told Morgana softly. “Though she may have seen us, it is unlikely that anyone else did. Only the tallest towers in the castle would provide anyone with the view, alright? It’s not as bad as it seems, I promise.”

Nimueh’s bored tone floated over towards them as she said, “Another lie. I wonder, Morgana, how many you will allow her to tell you until you finally get tired of it.”

Morgause whipped around to face her. “You seem to have some terrible _ache_ to get set on fire today, don’t you? I’m growing tired of your shit. Morgana does not need you; she is a High Priestess and is skilled enough and _intelligent_ enough to learn these things on her own.” Her fingers laced between Morgana’s and she beckoned her, “Come, sister; we’re leaving.”

But Morgana held her ground. “No,” she said in a small voice. Morgause turned to face her, disbelief coloring her features. Behind her, Nimueh cackled in triumph. This time, it was Morgana’s turn to glare at her.

“Shut up,” she told the witch boldly. It was as though, quite suddenly, Morgana had sprouted from a seed into the tallest of trees. There was fire in her eyes as she pushed past her embarrassment and addressed Nimueh, “I do not like you. In fact, the very sight of you makes me wretch. You are manipulative and cruel and I pity you, Nimueh, for whatever made you so unfathomably bitter must have been something truly terrible.”

Nimueh’s eyebrows rose at Morgana’s statement, but it was the singular word of ‘pity’ that made her noticeably wince. It seemed that was the last thing that she had ever wanted from anyone. Morgause looked at her sister, impressed that she seemed to find the chink in Nimueh’s armor.

“But I do not fear you,” Morgana told her, the strength inside of her growing with every word. “And I am not so foolish to believe that I could not benefit from your teachings, nor am I so _stupid_ to realize that, for whatever reason, you need me to be here. So if you wish to train me then so be it, but I am _through_ with how you believe you can speak to me or my sister.”

Morgause could not have been prouder of Morgana than in that moment. That was... simply _glorious._ There was no other way to describe it. Nimueh was staring at her, seemingly at a loss for words. Morgause had to wonder if this was the first time that had ever happened to her.

It was a long time until Nimueh spoke, but finally she said, “Fine.” Her tone was flat, though it was clear it bothered her that Morgana knew she needed her here. It bothered Morgause more though, as she knew why. Nimueh glanced at Morgause out of the corner of her eye before addressing Morgana. “But she leaves. If you wish to finally stand on your own two feet, little bird, do so without a crutch.”

It wasn’t the request that bothered Morgause, it was the newfound nickname. She knew it was solely used to form a bond between the two of them and Morgause did not like it. She did not want, in any way, for Morgana to trust her. Nimueh would lead her down a path full of death and despair; she was sure of it.

But Morgana had made her decision. She turned to Morgause and clasped her hands in hers. “I’ll be alright,” she assured her. “I can handle myself. But I need to do this, do you understand?”

“Yes,” Morgause replied softly. She appreciated the strength Morgana was beginning to find within herself as she came into her womanhood, but she still felt wary about leaving her. It seemed she had no choice though and all she could do now was hope for the best.

But before Morgause could turn to leave, Morgana grasped the back of her neck and pulled her towards her. She kissed her fiercely and Morgause could hear Nimueh scoff in distaste behind them. She was surprised that her sister chose to do that, but when they broke Morgana whispered against her lips, “I knew that would bother her.” Morgause smirked.

Perhaps she shouldn’t worry after all.

[x]

Morgana stood in the threshold, watching her sister from afar. Morgause was sitting on their bed, staring at a potted plant that rested on the side table, looking at it as though it were here greatest enemy. As Morgana watched Morgause grow more frustrated, the Ward had to contain a smirk. When Morgause grew angry with her magick, she would wave her had rather violently at the object she was trying to best and swear loudly, which, incidentally, did not make anything easier for her. The more she lost control over her temper, the more she lost control over her magick.

Morgause was a master of fire and was rather decent with air and water, but earth? That element seemed to best her constantly. Morgana didn’t know what it was, but when it came to conjuring, Morgause always had such a difficult time with it.

A slew of rude words flowed from Morgause’s lips as she finally gave into her aggravation and pushed the plant from its resting place. The pot shattered on the ground and dirt went everywhere. Morgana raised an eyebrow.

“If you don’t respect it, Morgause, it will not bend to your will. Isn’t that the first thing everyone learns here?”

Morgause looked up, momentarily startled that she was not as alone as she originally thought. Her eyes landed on Morgana and she glowered. “Don’t preach at me, Morgana. I’m not in the mood.”

Morgana crossed the room to sit beside her sister on the bed. “What were you trying to do?” she asked as she looked down at the remnants of Morgause’s failure on the floor. Her sister shrugged.

“Make it grow, I guess. It wasn’t cooperating.”

Morgana smirked and, though she knew she shouldn’t, the younger sister in her felt the need to impress. Her eyes turned golden and with a twirl of her hand she coaxed the plants roots to grow into large, thick looking vines that waved around as though they wanted to taunt Morgause. The blonde looked unamused and set the entire plant ablaze without a second thought, which made Morgana yelp and back up. Now it was Morgause’s turn to smirk.

“Don’t show off then.”

Morgana quickly conjured water to put the plant out and it fell lifeless and charred to the floor. “Don’t do that indoors!” she exclaimed, hating whenever her sister did foolish things like that. But Morgause didn’t looked faze din the slightest by her lecture.

“This is why you can’t control fire, you know,” she told Morgana pointedly. “You fear it.”

“Well it’s dangerous!” the Ward protested. “I don’t know how you can so easily play with something like that and yet you can’t control a simple plant. At least _that_ can’t kill you, should something go wrong.”

“Yeah, because it’s boring.”

Morgana looked at her sister, realizing something. “Is that why you can’t?” she asked. “Because you have no interest in learning anything that isn’t dangerous or, I don’t know, awe-inspiring?” It made sense, now that she thought about it. Morgause loved offensive spells; it seemed she deemed anything else as not worth her time.

Morgause shrugged. “Probably.”

Morgana scrunched up her face, not understanding how her sister wasn’t fascinated by every aspect of magick. Perhaps it was because she grew up with it, that even the simplest thing seemed trivial. But to Morgana, it was all amazing. The problem was, as Morgause had mentioned, some of it frightened her. It was those spells that she was the worst at, she found.

“Even the simplest of things can be beautiful, Morgause,” Morgana tried to tell her. She held out her hand and as Morgause watched her, she conjured a lovely purple flower in her palm. She smiled at her and reached out, decorating her sister’s blonde locks with her accomplishment. “See?” Morgana brushed the hair from Morgause’s shoulder, letting her fingertips lightly run down her arm.

Morgause still didn’t look impressed. “In the end, it’s still just a flower. That spell holds no purpose.”

Morgana sighed. Sometimes she didn’t know why she tried. “Everything holds a purpose,” she told her. “Perhaps it’s just that you’re too blinded to see anything other than grand gestures. Don’t think I haven’t realized that the majority of spells you know are only things that can make people look upon you in wonderment and fear.”

“What’s so wrong with that?”

“Simple things can hold meaning too,” Morgana tried to explain, wishing her sister would understand. Morgause was a very powerful sorceress and Morgana wished she could be half as good as her someday, but in the end, there was more to life than making a statement everyone would notice. Nimble fingers touched the flower petals that resided in Morgause’s hair. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

That, at least, seemed to make Morgause understand a small part of it. “Oh,” she realized, looking embarrassed that she had dismissed Morgana’s gift to her, just because it wasn’t some grand show of sorcery. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

To further her point, Morgana requested, “Give me something. Something simple, yet meaningful.” Morgause noticeably hesitated. ‘Simple’ was not exactly in her vocabulary when it came to magick. She hesitated for a long time.

But finally she held out her hand. She conjured fire before Morgana’s eyes, but it wasn’t just any flame. She twisted it, shaping it until it looked to be in the shape of a heart. “Cute,” Morgana replied dryly. While she was impressed that Morgause could do something like that, it only further enhanced what she was trying to prove. “But you see my point?”

Morgause merely shrugged, closing her hand around the flame to dissipate it. “We have different skills, different areas of interest. There’s nothing wrong with that, Morgana.”

The Ward sighed. No, she supposed not. Perhaps it was futile to try to get Morgause interested in the simpler things, for her sister was far from a simple being. Sometimes that was the problem though. It had been nearly a fortnight since they had consummated their physical relationship, but Morgana found that as each day passed, she found it harder and harder to completely trust her sister. It didn’t help either, that Nimueh had suggested she test her, and that Morgana complied without a second thought. But she was curious, needing to know if she had made the right decision. 

Morgana didn’t understand what went on in Morgause’s mind. She never looked plagued by the things she kept from her, yet Morgana knew that if the positions were reversed that she would feel obligated to tell her sister what she knew without a second thought. Part of it infuriated her, if she were to be honest. Sometimes she felt as if Morgause didn’t have any respect for her, which was why it was so easy to do the things she did. Yet Morgana held her silence, trying to give Morgause time to come to her senses and just learn to be honest with her, because she was so in love with her that sometimes it was hard to think straight.

Morgana was quickly losing patience, however. She could only keep up the façade that everything was alright between them for so long.

She rose from the bed, knowing it were best if she didn’t have too much alone time with Morgause. “I think I’m going to go get something to eat before I see Nimueh,” she mentioned, although she wasn’t hungry in the slightest. But Morgause grabbed her hand before she could leave.

“No, stay,” she requested, looking up at her sister pleadingly. “You’ve been so obsessed with training that we’ve hardly had any time to ourselves.” Morgana knew that, but that was the point in all of this. Morgause chewed her bottom lip slightly before admitting, “I… I miss you, Morgana.”

“I’m right here.”

“Yeah, but never for long,” Morgause told her, finally voicing her concern out loud. “Honestly, sometimes it seems like you go out of your way not to be around me for an extended period of time.” Morgana pointedly stayed silent. That made Morgause’s grip on her hand loosen and she allowed it to fall lifelessly back to her side as a hurt look crossed over her face as she realized, “You do, don’t you? _Why?_ ”

Morgana really didn’t want to get into this now, but she knew Morgause would never let her leave without an answer. So she finally allowed herself to feel it, all of it. She sat down heavily on the bed, an aggravated sigh falling from her lips as her hand reached out to grab a fistful of Morgause’s hair. She didn’t pull on it, but she needed the demonstration to accent her point.

“Why then?” Morgana demanded, looking into her sister’s eyes with an explanation to her own question that spoke volumes louder than her words. “Why is it, Morgause, that we look so different? _Tell me._ I gave you so many chances to do so willingly, but you haven’t!”

Morgause noticeably paled. She knew exactly what Morgana was referring to, as the Ward expected. Morgause stared at her for a moment before her shock turned to anger. “That _bitch!_ ” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet in her rage. When Morgause was angry, she needed to move. So she paced back and forth, looking as though she would like nothing more than to tear Nimueh’s head from her body. “She had _no right_ to tell you!”

But those words only stood to make Morgana angrier. “She had _every_ right!” she shouted. “It’s _my_ life, Morgause, _my_ lineage! How could you think that I never needed to know where I really came from? And worse than that, how could you allow someone like _her_ to tell me the truth, instead of you? Do you think I _liked_ hearing that Uther was truly my father from someone I could never seek comfort in during my confusion? How _could_ you?”

“I was trying to protect you!” Morgause exclaimed, gesturing erratically like Morgana should have known that without being told. “You didn’t need to know something like that, not now! One day, yes; but not when so much else had changed in your life, and _certainly_ not before we go back to Camelot to get Gwen. Do you realize, Morgana, why she told you this? Do you understand what Nimueh expects of you, what I’m sure many of the people here expect of you? I wasn’t about to take you away from someone who thought they could control your destiny, only to allow someone else to do it here!”

That made Morgana fall silent. Though she still believed Morgause should have told her, it was hard not to see her reason why she did not. “I’m not a child,” she told her sister finally. “If I don’t wish to assume the throne, I don’t have to. Even if I wasn’t a bastard, Arthur is still in line before me. Just thinking about it is pointless, Morgause.”

Morgause frowned at her use of the word bastard. “Don’t call yourself that.”

“Why? It’s true,” Morgana told her, wishing she was strong enough not to sound upset about it. But it was hard, knowing Uther was her father and yet realizing he would never truly accept her as family. Treating her like a daughter and acknowledging her were two very different things, it seemed. It made her feel like she wasn’t good enough and more than anything else, she hated that the most. “I’m an illegitimate child. Unless Uther acknowledges me to his people, my royal blood means absolutely nothing.”

Morgause looked frustrated. “Don’t you see that she doesn’t _care?_ ” she asked loudly. “Pendragon is in your blood and Nimueh has been obsessed with destroying Camelot ever since she got banished from their court. She’s going to try to convince you that with Uther and Arthur gone, you can take the throne; that instead of just returning to Camelot to save Gwen, that you could have a higher purpose; you could bring magick back to Albion, and yes,” Morgause admitted, “perhaps you could, one day. If that’s what you want, I’ll support you. But not yet; you’re far too young and much too unskilled to ever hope to lay siege on that city and win. You’ll be slaughtered, and I right alongside you because I could never let you die alone.”

Morgana stared at her. Though she knew her sister was probably correct in assuming that, she still took offense. She hated when Morgause treated her like a child who was not yet ready to venture out into the world. Morgana was old enough to make her own decisions; she didn’t need to be _coddled._ “Your lack of faith in me is incredibly disturbing sometimes.”

Morgause looked exasperated. “Morgana, I’m just trying to be realistic. And above all, I’m just trying to protect you. I meant it when I told you she would poison your mind; look at what she’s doing now! She told me before that if I stood in the way of her plans for you than she would take you away from me and here we are fighting because of her. What’s next?”

“We’re _fighting_ because you treat me as though I’m made of glass!” Morgana shouted, fed up with it all. She loved that Morgause wanted to protect her, but sometimes she went too far. “It is not your place to decide what I should and should not know, nor what you think I should do with my life or who I should listen to! I can decide for myself, Morgause!”

“And I’m sorry,” Morgana continued heatedly as she rose to her feet, wanting to be on even height with her sister, “that you believe me to be so feeble minded that I cannot see for myself what others are trying to do around me. I know what Nimueh wants; I’m not stupid. She’s ridiculously transparent once you make a point to look hard enough at her. And despite that fact that she’s harsh and cruel in most of her delivery, she still tells me the truth, unlike _some_ people.”

That statement, more than anything, seemed to hurt Morgause the most. Her face masked in upset and she let out a small, defeated breath. “I was just trying to do what I thought was best,” she whispered, as though she knew that it was probably pointless that she even say the words, as they wouldn’t make a difference. She pushed the hair back from her face as she turned from Morgana, looking at a loss about what to do.

Morgana stared at her, beginning to grow just as upset. “Haven’t you realized yet, that during this entire conversation, you haven’t even _once_ asked what it is that I feel, what it is that I _want?_ ” That was the thing, above all else, that bothered her the most. “For someone who wants me to be able to control my own destiny, you seem to believe that you should be the one to show me which path is best taken.”

Morgause was beginning to look defeated. “I don’t…!” she began, but her words turned into a sigh before she finally turned to look at her once more. “I’m sorry,” Morgause apologized finally. “That was never my intention. I just… I want what’s best for you, Morgana. And maybe it’s arrogant of me to assume I know what that is, but I worry. I can’t help it. I have never felt for anyone the way I feel about you, that even the mere thought of something happening to you destroys me inside. And Nimueh… I feel as though she’ll bring you down a path you cannot come back from and that terrifies me.”

Morgana stared at her, arms wrapped around her form as she softly sighed. “Then _ask,_ ” she instructed her. “Ask me if I plan to follow her down it.”

Morgause leaned against the wall, closing her eyes for a moment. She seemed to be realizing that, once again, she was not doing what Morgana asked of her. Even after it being spelled out plain as day, Morgause still chose to caution her before knowing that there was a reason she should. Perhaps it had become habitual, but Morgana wished to change that, one way or another.

“Do you…?” Morgause finally asked, looking up at her. It seemed she was scared of the answer, which was perhaps why it took her so long to ask it. The truth could sometimes be hard to change, once it’s been said out loud. That always made it so much more real.

Morgana took a hesitating breath before she answered. “You deserve an answer to that,” she replied honestly. But when she looked into her sister’s eyes, she continued pointedly with, “And that’s exactly why I’m not going to give you one.” Morgause looked at her in disbelief as Morgana turned away from her, heading towards the door. She knew it was cruel, but she needed her sister to understand. Perhaps it would be the only way she would learn, as her words didn’t seem to do much good. 

“ _This_ is how it feels, Morgause,” Morgana told her harshly, hand on the doorknob as she looked back at her sister. “It’s horrible, isn’t it, when someone believes you’re too fragile to know the truth you deserve?”

Her words caused Morgause terrible unrest. “What do you mean by that?” she demanded, drawing to the worst conclusion. Morgana let her. “Morgana—!” But Morgana had left, slamming the door in her wake. 

She had made her point.

**TBC…**


	20. A Declaration of War

**CHAPTER XX  
A Declaration of War**

A month passed. A letter was finally sent to Uther and for days afterwards Morgana paced relentlessly in their room, unable to concentrate on anything until his response came. Morgause spent a disproportionate amount of her day watching her until Morgana’s movements made her dizzy and the sound of her sister’s footsteps began to play in Morgause’s head at night, when all was silent and calm. It nearly drove her to madness, but when the next morning came the routine began all over again, Morgause found that being captivated by Morgana was much more satisfying than her sanity anyhow.

She had changed so much. In the little time that Morgause had known her, Morgana had gone from this confused young girl to one of the most complicated, yet incredibly driven women that Morgause had ever known. She mastered magick far more quickly than Morgause could have ever dreamed possible, though she supposed that it was only to be expected as Morgana had something to fight for, and the time when she would be forced to do so was looming ever nearer.

Morgause made love to her almost every night; it was the only thing she found that calmed her sister’s restless mind enough to sleep. But it was detached, as things were tense between them. Morgana still refused to tell her what she thought in regards to Nimueh’s proposal, which had apparently now become a full out plan complete with diagrams and the like, and _oh,_ it enraged Morgause, how much time her sister spent locked away with Nimueh in that damn tower. She had gotten Morgana’s point ages ago and she didn’t understand why she continued to do this to her.

Morgause was beginning to wonder if perhaps Morgana had now seen _her_ rationality instead of the other way around. Protection and the like; not wanting to crush Morgause’s feeble hope that Morgana would see reason instead of continuing to eat up Nimueh’s lies like they lied between her damn legs. Morgause hated that woman, beyond any sane thought. If she could flay the skin from her bones she would do it in a heartbeat, but Llamrei would be terribly cross with her and Morgana… well, it was how Morgana would feel about it all that worried Morgause the most. Worried that she would _care,_ that it would end up devastating her in some disastrously screwed up way.

Morgause had too much wine one night, having convinced herself that Morgana must be betraying her love with the witch. She couldn’t bear the thought and the screaming that followed the confrontation lasted hours. After far too many tears were shed and objects were broken beyond repair, Morgana pushed her up against a wall, told her she was the biggest fool she had ever had the displeasure of meeting, and then fucked the very breath from her lungs. Morgause could still remember her whispers that night as Morgana took what she had always owned; promises of love, promises of forever, and a painful apology for being so disastrously messed up, for she was so very afraid of everything that was to come and it seemed she could not begin to handle it.

War, Morgana had said, was not something she ever believed she was built for.

Nimueh was breaking her. Yet Morgause stood there, watching her sister fall apart in front of her eyes and unable to do anything about it. Confrontations were stopped, pleading fell on deaf ears. It was ridiculous now, how confident Morgana had been that she would never let someone like Nimueh manipulate her to her own ends, because that seemed to be exactly what was happening.

As the days turned into nights and Morgana’s stress began to consume her, Morgause finally came to the realization that she had lost. The way her sister spoke of Uther, of Arthur, who Morgana had once cared deeply for, was now filled with hatred and contempt. She told Morgause that it wasn’t fair, how she meant so little to them when she was their blood. That it was horrific, what Uther had done to her mother, to their people, what Arthur would continue to do should he be allowed to assume the throne. And it was, Morgause would never question that. She wanted that bastard dead as much as the next person on the Isle and had her concerns about Arthur as well, but it began to frighten her that everyday Morgana seemed to grow closer to the desire that she be the one to stop them both.

Because in the end, Morgause knew she would be right alongside her. What Morgana wanted, Morgana got; Morgause made sure of that. Some days it was as though it was the only thing she was built to do, so when the day came that Morgana received a reply from Uther and she turned to Morgause, a fiery purpose in her eyes as she told her they needed to acquire an army, Morgause told her she would see it done. There was nothing more she could do; Morgana had made her decision. And even if it killed them both, Morgause would see her needs met, because she loved her far too much to ever deny her the chance to make history.

“What of Gwen?” Morgause asked her that same day. She hadn’t heard her sister speak of her friend in a very long time and she worried Nimueh had managed to wipe her from Morgana’s mind, as it would only prove to be a distraction in the end. That would be completely unforgivable however, and should it be true then Morgause was damn ready to storm up into that tower and singe the flesh from the bitch’s body.

She may do that anyway just for the satisfaction, but that was neither here nor there at the moment.

Morgana turned towards her, the thought of Gwen seemingly taking her from her elaborate plans for revenge. It seemed to have confused her for a moment and she noticeably paused. “Nothing’s changed in that aspect,” she told her, determined of her own words. “We’re releasing her from the dungeons before we even step foot inside the throne room; I will not have her in that place any longer than she needs to be. And afterwards, when we’ve taken Camelot, I will give her title and more servants of her own than she could even begin to imagine. Her sacrifice for us would never go unrewarded; she is my dearest friend and I would give her the moon itself should she find she desires it.”

_Pretty words, for someone who seems to have such a one track mindset,_ Morgause mused. “When was the last time you even checked on her?” she asked.

“This morning,” Morgana told her, her tone growing offended as she assessed her sister’s look. “As I do every morning. What do you take me as? I do not like the way you’re looking at me. Do you really think me terrible enough to forget her?”

“Of course not,” Morgause told her, because she knew if Morgana had, it would not have been of her own doing. “But I do not know what goes on in your head anymore, Morgana. You rarely share your thoughts with me and as the days go on I’m forced to sit here and watch Nimueh twist you into this being of her own creation, hell bent on a revenge that is not even your own. Sometimes I feel as though I don’t even know who you are anymore!”

“It _is_ my own!” Morgana exclaimed passionately, advancing on her. She was waving her arms erratically, trying to further enhance her point. “The revenge, it’s all of ours, including yours! Are you saying you don’t want this? That you wish not to help me?” 

“Of course not—”

“Then stop making me feel as though I am a terrible person for trying to right the wrong that was done to us,” Morgana told her, looking hurt. It startled Morgause a little, as emotions that did not consist of anger, determination, or lust seemed to have been long forgotten by her sister. Yet there she was before her, looking as though Morgause’s assessment of her current state of mind devastated her. “I’m doing this for _you,_ ” Morgana told her, taking her sister’s hands in hers. Her eyes begged for her to understand. “For all of us, for what is _right._ And I need you, Morgause, more than anyone else in this world, to understand that, for I could never hope to achieve this without you.”

Morgause averted her gaze from her. This entire situation was disastrous and she hated herself for how she had allowed things to turn out. She brought Morgana here, where she believed it to be safe, and instead only managed to lead Morgana down the road of absolute corruption. The girl she fell in love with was still in front of her, yet Morgause could only see a glimmer of her behind Morgana’s eyes most days. Now she was this powerful force of nature; a tool, a _weapon_ for their kind. This wasn’t what Morgause wanted for her. It wasn’t even close.

“I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth, Morgana,” she admitted softly, though still would not meet her gaze. Morgause feared what her sister would find there. “You know that.”

But Morgana saw it anyway. She exhaled a heavy breath as she came to rest next to Morgause on the bed. She leaned forward, leaning her forehead against her sister’s as she closed her eyes. “I’m sorry,” Morgana whispered finally. Her fingers curled around Morgause’s, holding her hand tight to her. “I know what she’s done to me. I know I promised you that it would never happen, and I am so sorry, my love, for disappointing you. I am only trying to do what I feel is right.”

Morgause shut her eyes tightly, hating the sound of those words falling from her sister’s lips. She shook her head forcefully. “You could never disappoint me, Morgana,” she breathed, meaning every word. She would never be disappointed in her sister for risking her life for them all. It was merely that Morgause wished it did not have to happen so soon. But she knew, one day, that it would have to. Morgana had a good heart and she would not be able to stand idly by for long, watching the injustices that were being done to their people, while she knew she held the power to stop it. It wasn’t that this was happening; it was that it was Nimueh who had made it so. “I just don’t understand how you can say you see what she has done to you, yet still allow her to continue. You don’t need her, Morgana.”

“No,” Morgana affirmed. “I don’t. I truly believe she has taught me all that she can at this point, but that is not why I continue to go to her.” She pulled back from Morgause a little, allowing the blonde to look her in the eye. “I know what you must think, but I am not blindly following her. If you want the honest truth, she is nowhere close to my favorite person and I still mistrust her a great deal. But in the end that doesn’t matter, because she is _right,_ ” Morgana told her forcefully, needing Morgause to understand her position. “I _am_ the only one who can do this, Morgause. Do you honestly think I could ever live with myself, should I let this opportunity pass us by? We could change everything, sister. _Everything._ If I do nothing else with my life, I wish to do this; for even if I fail, I will know I tried to make a better world for us, and that must count for something.”

Morgana cupped her cheek in her hand possessively, the fire behind her eyes setting the pit of Morgause’s stomach ablaze. “I am not hers, Morgause. I am _yours;_ now and forever. Please understand that I am not doing this, becoming this _person,_ to hurt you. It’s because I love you so much that I have the strength to do this. And yes, it scares me, some days to brink of insanity, but nothing has ever been accomplished by those who were too frightened to try.”

“Then why is she still around?” Morgause asked her, needing to know why Morgana chose to include her in all of this when she no longer needed her as a teacher. “We can do this together, without her.”

“Perhaps,” Morgana replied, her thumb brushing over the back of her sister’s hand as she looked down at their woven fingers. “But she is powerful, and we need all the help we can get. Should the elders allow it, I wish to take her with us when we go.”

“ _No._ ”

Abso-fucking- _lutely_ not. Morgause would rather choke on her own entrails than work next to that woman. Nimueh’s part in all of this was done and Morgause was certain that she would make it stay that way, should she need to. That wasn’t even an option.

Morgana pursed her lips, looking at her sympathetically. But it was her response of nothing at all that bothered Morgause the most, because it seemed that it was not even up for discussion. But that was fine, because Morgause didn’t need words anyhow.

[x]

This was never going to work.

Morgana had hoped that Morgause would see things her way, see things _rationally._ Nimueh, despite being a rather bitter and callous individual, would still be a great asset to their cause. She was powerful and besides, weren’t three sorceresses better than two? But Morgause didn’t think so. In fact, she was so strongly _against_ this plan of action that she took it upon herself to storm up the stairs to the western tower and blow Nimueh’s door off its hinges, apparently believing that if she put the woman in a coma this would no longer be an issue.

It all went downhill from there.

Nimueh always knew just the right thing to enrage Morgause. It was always about her, because Nimueh had always been right in that aspect; Morgana _was_ her greatest weakness. She never thought clearly when it came to her and though Morgana loved, with every inch of her being, that her sister was so enamored with her that it seemed nothing else mattered, it did her no good when it came to others who knew the very same thing.

“You fear it, don’t you? That it’s _me_ she pictures, when she slides her fingers so deep within you that you forget the rest of the world exists,” Nimueh had said viciously. “Because you know it doesn’t for her, not anymore. I am always in the back of her mind, in her very _soul._ It is I who owns her now, not you.”

That couldn’t have been further from the truth, but it enraged Morgause like nothing Morgana had ever seen before. If she were being truthful, Morgana would admit that Nimueh got exactly what was coming to her after that. But she wasn’t being truthful, because she needed _both_ of them to achieve her ends. It wouldn’t do picking sides; at least, not when they were in the same room as one another.

In the end, it was always Morgause. She wished her sister knew that, but she had always had the fear that Nimueh would take her from her. She had said it that day on the beach, the first time they had made love. It terrified her and Morgana wished she knew why. She had never, in her entire life, had thought she would ever want to be anywhere other than at Morgause’s side. She breathed life into her and completed her very soul; she was Morgana’s savior, her lover, her world.

However, now her world was beaten and broken. Morgause’s shoulder was dislocated and her leg was bleeding profusely; but then again, she had managed to burn half of Nimueh’s face as well as break her arm, so it wasn’t as though she came out on bottom. They were now on opposites sides of the room, being tended to by the healers. Llamrei was screaming at Morgause, another elder at Nimueh. The damage they had done not just to each other, but to the castle, was pretty horrific.

Morgana was leaning against the wall near where Morgause lay, trying desperately not to cry. She was so frustrated by how everything was turning out. It was bad enough that she was terrified of what they were going to set out to do, bad enough that they were probably horribly unprepared, but to have this on top of it all was making it utterly unbearable to deal with. They were ticking time bombs around each other, and it seemed that no matter how much Morgana wished she could bring them both, it just wasn’t possible. That left her feeling much more vulnerable, and as Morgana raised her left hand to heal her right – which had gotten caught in the crossfire as she desperately tried to separate them – she found it shaking profusely. 

Llamrei noticed. She gave Morgause a look of utter disappointment before she moved towards Morgana. “Here, child,” she said, taking Morgana’s hand in hers. “Let me.”

It seemed later that Llamrei was not finished with Morgause, so when Nimueh retreated once more to her tower, Morgana followed her. The witch was looking out the window at the world below her and showed no regard for Morgana’s presence when she entered the room. But it didn’t matter, as the Ward did not need her to look at her, only to listen.

“What you said to Morgause crossed the line, Nimueh.”

Nimueh said nothing for a long moment. She still did not turn around, not wishing to see the anger and disappointment on Morgana’s face; she would know in an instant what it meant. “She attacked me,” she said finally, as though that were some kind of excuse.

It was true; Nimueh did not deal the first blow. That fault lied solely in Morgause, but Nimueh still made it worse. On purpose, it seemed. Perhaps she had been waiting for this for a long time; to give Morgause what she thought was coming to her. They really, _really_ disliked one another.

“So you thought it best to enrage her further?”

Nimueh’s tone was bitter. “ _Apparently._ She is, after all, _far_ too easy.” Morgana tended to agree with her on that point, yet said nothing. She did not want Nimueh believing that she condoned her behavior.

“I need to ask you something,” Morgana said, taking a few steps towards her. Nimueh still did not turn, but it was of no matter, for Morgana knew her bold question would get her attention nonetheless. “Do you hate her because she has me, or because she reminds you of yourself?”

Nimueh stiffened before she turned, anger showing behind her eyes. “You know nothing of my life, Morgana, and if you know what’s good for you, you will keep it that way.” That, at least, proved to Morgana that it was one of those two scenarios, but Nimueh continued. “I hate her because she is arrogant, she is foolish, and she prioritizes one person above the rest of her kind. Her love for you, in the end, will ruin us all.”

Morgana had to wonder, was she speaking from experience?

“How long ago was it,” Morgana asked, disregarding Nimueh’s warning as she peered at her, “that you lost her?” She had taken a guess and it seemed she had hit a soft spot because Nimueh’s eyes flashed and she advanced on her.

“ _What did I just say to you?_ ”

“Was it Ygraine?” Morgana continued, holding her ground. Now that she had started, she needed to know. Nimueh had always been so bitter when it came to love, so _angry_ when it came to believing that Morgause would destroy them all because of it. “Do you blame yourself for the Purge, because you did what she asked of you? Because you loved her and in the end, that was what took so many lives?”

A hand clasped around Morgana’s throat and she was pinned to the wall in an instant. She knew she was risking Nimueh’s wrath so it was hardly unexpected, but Morgana fought against her grip as she struggled to breathe. “ _He_ killed her!” Nimueh screamed, rage etched on her face. “He planted the seed of his own selfish desires in her mind, he corrupted her, owned her although she was too precious to _ever_ —!”

Despite wanting to hear the rest, Morgana couldn’t take it anymore. Her eyes flashed gold and a strong burst of air hurled Nimueh off of her. Morgana collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath. She held her throat, knowing it was terribly bruised by the force of Nimueh’s grip. She watched the witch pick herself up off the ground, still looking furious.

“I’m sorry,” Morgana gasped out, needing her to know that before this got any worse. She got the information she needed; she didn’t need to provoke her any further. “I am so terribly sorry, Nimueh, for your loss. It breaks my heart to know you had to go through such an ordeal.”

Nimueh was breathing heavily as she stared down at her, anger still dark within her eyes, yet she did not move towards her. “Get out,” she demanded. “We are finished, Morgana. You and I both know that after tonight the elders will not dare let me accompany you, so I want you out of my sight. Do not come back here, ever.”

Morgana said nothing, for she knew she could not promise that. She would fix this; somehow, she would fix this. She understood Nimueh’s pain, for it must have destroyed her terribly to lose the person she loved because of her own actions. But it wasn’t her fault, it was _Uther’s._ No one should _ever_ feel at fault for loving someone so much that they would do anything for them. And Morgause… somehow, Morgana needed to show her that Nimueh wasn’t a threat to her; that they were actually very much alike, should they both only choose to see and accept it. 

Morgana needed, desperately, for them both to come to some sort of peace, otherwise she feared their plans would never succeed, and she could not allow it to come to that.

**TBC…**


	21. Resolutions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how late this is. My girlfriend is my only beta for absolutely _everything_ that I write and I think I've managed to kind of swamp her lately, lol.

**CHAPTER XXI  
Resolutions**

Morgana was unsure of the true definition of sanity, but she was fairly certain that it wasn’t this.

She couldn’t sleep. Morgause was thrashing in the bed anyway, most likely due to a nightmare or just continued frustration from everything that had gone on. Morgana still did not have a chance to talk with her about it, as it seemed Morgause already had more lectures and disappointment than she could handle in one day from Llamrei. She was incredibly moody when she got back to the room and after she threw her clothes in a heap on the ground and kicked her boots into the wall, she said a terse, “Goodnight,” before falling into bed and furiously rolling over, taking most of the covers with her.

Morgana found it best if she said nothing, so she kept quiet. She would speak with her sister when doing so wouldn’t risk bringing the entire castle down. Again.

Perhaps it was because her sister making love to her had become so routine that Morgana found she could not sleep without it, but hours later she found herself crawling out of bed, the thoughts that were plaguing her mind consuming her once more. Her feet carried her out of the bedroom and outside, into the gardens. The sun was beginning to rise in the east, the sound of chirping birds filling her ears. Morgana did not realize how early it was; she could have sworn she had just lied there for a few long moments, not hours as seemed to be the case. Perhaps time blended together when one was deprived of the rest they very much needed.

Morgana didn’t know how long she had been outside, but it seemed to be quite awhile. She was standing in front of the bird bath, looking into its water as it reflected back a picture of her friend. Morgana did this every morning, as Nimueh was had been correct; for someone like her, conjuring an image of the present was fairly easy once she knew how to do so. But she never stood here this long. She watched Gwen carefully, though she didn’t do anything other than sleep. She didn’t cry anymore either. It seemed Gwen’s tears ran dry weeks ago. Now she just slept all the time, trying to find another world to slip into that wasn’t the horror of her reality. 

She was badly malnourished. It horrified Morgana, how quickly she was watching her friend deteriorate within that cell. It infuriated her that Uther couldn’t even be arsed to treat Gwen like a normal human being. But what else had she been expecting, really? Uther regarded those who did not bare a title as barely worth acknowledging. Arthur, on the other hand, _did,_ yet once again he had pushed aside his own sense of decency just to please his father. 

It wasn’t right.

It was quite some time until Morgana heard footsteps behind her. She could feel that it was Morgause without even having turned around. The connection between them, now that Morgana had come into her magick, was always strong. It hummed across her skin and made her feel as though her mere presence was what completed her soul. But she was angry with her, so she did not make a move to greet her. Instead she continued to stare into the basin, watching Gwen’s chest rise and fall with each breath she took. She could not believe that Morgause had ever suspected that she no longer cared about her friend; it was her intense desire to save her that had started this whole thing, after all.

“You’ve been awake all night, haven’t you?”

Morgana said nothing.

Morgause came up behind her, placing her hands lightly on her hips as she looked over her shoulder to catch sight of the image of Gwen. Morgana felt her sister stiffen behind her, no doubt seeing what she herself had been constantly distraught over. “Gods, what have they done to her?” she breathed, horrified by how thin and frail she looked.

“It gets worse every day,” Morgana whispered, needing Morgause to realize the severity of the situation. “They feed her once a day, that’s all. She barely even gets enough water to keep her hydrated. I fear…” her words caught in her throat momentarily, emotion overwhelming her, “I fear that if we do not act soon, she will not live to see us again.”

“She will,” Morgause promised her strongly. “I swear to you, Morgana, we will save her, even if it’s the last thing we ever do.”

Her words should have been a comfort to the Ward, yet they only stood to enhance her anger and disappointment with her sister. How dare she say something like that after what she had done yesterday? “And yet still you felt the need to destroy something that would further our chance of success.”

Morgause exhaled a heavy breath, pulling away from her sister. Morgana finally turned, wanting to face her when they had this conversation. She was glad that Morgause looked guilty, because she should. Nimueh would have helped them, and because of her sister’s insecurities she had destroyed that chance. It was utterly selfish and that was what disappointed Morgana the most; for acting as though her whole world revolved around her, Morgause still had a bad habit of prioritizing herself during the worst of times.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t make it right.”

Morgause’s eyes found the ground. “I know,” she affirmed softly. She was chewing on the inside of her cheek, at least having the decency to look ashamed of herself. Morgana took a step towards her.

“You are the only one I have ever needed in my life,” she told her, needing Morgause to understand that. It was hard though, as it seemed her sister was constantly wrapping herself in a blanket of fear when it came to Morgana’s relationship with Nimueh. “I have told you this time and time again and I wish I could find a way to make you realize it,” she continued. “I do not want her, Morgause, not in the way I want you, _need_ you. Furthermore, she does not look at me in that way. Her heart is far too broken to ever dwell on the present, for she is forever trapped in the past. Have you never once wondered, what it was that made her so bitter?”

Morgause stayed silent. It was obvious she had not.

“You both are so similar,” Morgana pressed on as she took Morgause’s hands in hers, lacing their fingers together. Her sister’s eyes rose, meeting her gaze. “She too, did everything for the woman that she loved. But she lost everything for it and she’s afraid you will make the same mistake she did. And perhaps she’s right, Morgause, for sometimes I’m afraid that when you try to look at the big picture, you only see me.” Morgause turned her face away from her and allowed her eyes to land on the ground. She knew Morgana was right.

“We have a chance,” she told Morgause passionately, squeezing her sister’s hands in hers. “To change everything. But to do that I need both of you by my side, and I know you know I’m right. Two of us can do damage, but three of us could bring Camelot to its knees. And I promise you that I will not rest until I have Uther’s head on a stake, for what he did to you, to us, to our people, and to Gwen was horrific and unjust. He _must_ pay. That, above all, is and always will be more important than your personal feelings for Nimueh. I am sorry if that stings you, but it is the truth.”

Morgause did not speak for a long time, trying to find the right words. Morgana patiently waited, knowing her sister had to draw her own conclusions as to what was truly the best course of action. Still, Morgana could not help but hold her breath, hoping that she would finally see the entirety of the situation and the importance their mission held. She didn’t know what she would do if Morgause did not.

“I know, logically,” Morgause began, raising her eyes to look at her once more, “that what you are saying is right. Justice for our people, for our friends and family, is far more important than my own feelings. I am sorry for how selfish I have been, Morgana. But you must realize that this is not easy for me. I had spent most of my childhood dreaming of what it would be like to save you, riding in on some white steed and sweeping you away from the horrors of Camelot, like some kind of deluded fairytale. But it was what came after that was the most important to me; teaching you, honing your abilities and helping you grow into the woman you were meant to be. I wanted so desperately to be a part of that and sometimes it feels as though… as though in some way, Nimueh stole that from me. I hate her for that, more than anything else.”

Morgana’s face softened. She had believed this was about Morgause’s fear that she would take Nimueh as a lover in her stead, as perhaps it would be morally easier than lying with her own blood. And maybe it was about that on some level, as Morgause was _terribly_ possessive when Nimueh would allude to the possibility that she could take Morgana from her, but in the end their relationship as lovers paled in comparison to their relationship as sisters. Morgause wanted to step in and fill the role she had a claim to, yet was deprived of for most of her life. 

“Morgause, you have taught me more about magick, more about _myself_ , and more about the world than anyone else could ever dare to achieve,” Morgana told her honestly, cupping her sister’s cheek gently in her hand. She let her thumb dust softly over Morgause’s bottom lip. “Most of all, you showed me the power of love, when once I believed that because I was a woman, I had no right to ever know such a thing. You freed me, Morgause. You taught me how to feel. You taught me how to _believe_. You taught me the most precious lesson one ever hopes to learn in this world; how can you not see that?”

Morgause looked like she was beginning to become emotional and she closed her eyes, resting her forehead against Morgana’s as she inhaled a shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, her voice barely above a whisper. “I am _so_ sorry, Morgana, for focusing on so much negativity, when the most wonderful thing in the world was always right in front of me. What you have given me, what you have allowed me to give you, will always be more precious than anything else. I am sorry for ever forgetting that.”

Morgana shook her head, not wanting to hear her words anymore. She could feel Morgause’s honesty deep within her and that was all that mattered; speech, at this point, was so very irrelevant. She closed the distance between them, breathing her own love into Morgause’s heart, her hand tangling in hair as golden as the sun above them. 

And like the sun, Morgause burned her from the inside out; she consumed her heart and ignited such a fierce, unwavering love within her that, up until she had met her, Morgana never believed she would feel. And _oh,_ how she reveled in the feeling.

It was utter perfection, in its purest form.

[x]

“You are not welcome here.”

Morgause stood in the threshold of the door, her eyes on the witch she held so much disdain for. This was the very last place she ever wished to be, yet she knew she owed this to Morgana. She stepped inside, very much aware of how closely Nimueh was watching her; it was possible she thought Morgause had come to attack her again. She was through with that though; Morgana was right, they needed Nimueh. It wasn’t preferable, it wasn’t ideal, but it still was what it was and Morgause was through making everything so much harder on her sister.

“King Cenred,” Morgause mentioned, disregarding what Nimueh had said as she crossed the room to stand in front of her. “What are your thoughts on him?”

Nimueh arched an eyebrow. There was no hint of Morgause’s wrath on her face anymore; her skin was perfect, unscarred. Another glamour, the blonde mused. How Nimueh loved to be the picture of youth and beauty. It was foolish, yet they were all fools, in once sense or another. Perhaps it was time Morgause accepted that.

“You don’t listen very well.” Nimueh’s tone held a bit of a warning, yet she did not move to strike. Perhaps she too, had learned her lesson.

“So I’m often told.”

Nimueh’s eyes swept over Morgause’s form, assessing her. She could see very plainly the change in the blonde’s demeanor towards her. “You were foolish to come here,” Nimueh told her. “Bending to your sister’s will was futile, as I will never be allowed to leave the Isle. So what is it then, that you hope to gain here?”

“Permission is not something I am looking for,” Morgause told her, words that would probably get her another lashing from Llamrei should she ever hear them spoken. “This is our fight; the Elders can either stand by us or stand aside. I am not fussed either way, and I know you aren’t either. You crave to see Uther’s Pendragon’s demise, so do not foolishly waste this opportunity.”

Nimueh’s eyes hardened as she stared at Morgause, though the blonde was unsure whether it was due to anger or determination. It was a long time until she spoke, but Morgause was patient. “And what of us?” Nimueh asked finally. “Do you truly think that we will be able to stand together on the same side?” It looked as though she already had her own answer, however was waiting for Morgause’s to see if they coincided.

“Some things are more important. So yes, I do.”

Nimueh looked amused. “Strange,” she mused, cruelty once more corrupting her tone. “The words that fall from your lips sound so much like your sister. I wonder, Morgause; do you _enjoy_ being her lapdog?”

Morgause’s eyes flashed. She bit the inside of her cheek for a moment, willing herself to control her anger. It seemed Nimueh was testing her, and though Morgause had no desire to play her little games, she was here for Morgana. She owed it to her to make this work. 

“Are you in or out?” Morgause asked, pushing all of her snarky retorts from her mind. “I need an answer, for we need to act quickly. Time is not on our side, Morgana has already sent her reply to Uther and he is expecting her return. If we’re going to do this, we need to do it now.”

Nimueh paused, weighing her options. Finally she asked, “Why Cenred?” It was enough confirmation of her compliance for Morgause, and the blonde felt herself release a breath she hasn’t realized she’d been holding. Finally, things were starting to go right. Not preferable by a long shot, but right nonetheless.

Morgana would be pleased.

“He would be easy to double-cross,” Morgause answered simply. Nimueh’s lips turned up into a smirk; despite herself, it seemed she was impressed. “He is nothing more than a fool with an army. Quite a large one too, if the rumors I’ve heard are true.”

“You think he would be a wiser match than Odin?”

“Odin would rather see Camelot in flames than take it for himself,” Morgause told her. “Besides, Morgana’s assessment of the man leads me to believe he would not easily be taken by women. He is much too old, seen too much to be foolishly blinded by desire. Yet Cenred —”

“Has bastards everywhere,” Nimueh answered for her, realizing what Morgause was proposing. “You think that one of us should seduce him, so that he is easier to manipulate.” She paused for a moment, muddling this over. “I have heard,” Nimueh continued, “that he is driven only by his cock’s desires, but such rumors could be exaggerated. What we are asking is no easy feat; he may find it pertinent to decline. Then what?”

“Then we take his will.”

Nimueh arched an eyebrow. “Dark magick has consequences,” she warned her, as though Morgause wasn’t sure what exactly it was that she was proposing. But she wasn’t stupid; she knew everything came with a price.

“It’s not preferable,” Morgause admitted. “But his army will help us achieve our ends, one way or another. We have few options and even with the use of dark magic, I believe Cenred to be our best choice. He is feeble-minded and would be easy to control; it would not take much power. Besides, we don’t have the time to ride kingdom to kingdom in search of allies; we have one shot at this.”

Nimueh began shaking her head, quickly growing aggravated by Morgause’s words. “You truly do know nothing, don’t you?” she flared. “To take someone’s will is to deprive them of the very essence that makes them who they are. You cannot give it back; it is destroyed the moment you release it from their body, damning the victim to a life they no longer can call their own. The Gods do not take lightly to that sort of thing, and you are a fool for believing it would do us more good than harm. You forget, Morgause, that it is I who meddled with forces beyond my means once before. I am not so quick, nor so stupid, as to want to do that again.”

Morgause did not appreciate being called a fool, but she kept herself silent on the matter. Regardless of her dislike of it, she knew Nimueh was right; she did, after all, know nothing in that aspect. Dark magick was something she knew the concept of, yet never practiced. 

“The ones who practice the dark arts are the ones who have nothing left to lose,” Nimueh continued. She looked down at her, judging her, mocking her almost. “And you, my dear, still have _everything_ to lose.”

Morgause’s expression was stony, but she did not contradict what Nimueh said. “Fine,” she relented. “Then I hope, for all our sakes, that Cenred is obliging. If he is not, I will expect _you_ to come up with a more suitable plan. Do we have an understanding?”

“Do not speak to me like a child when it is you who is making decisions like one. I will stand by your side, Morgause, but I will _not_ take orders from you,” Nimueh told her strongly. Morgause had to resist the urge to throttle her; how could one woman manage to be so terribly aggravating? “Besides,” Nimueh continued. “There are three of us; I am sure Cenred will find that at least one of us stiffens his shaft. The odds are in our favor.”

Morgause hoped that it would be Nimueh, as either Morgana or herself having to string Cenred along had the possibility of causing great unrest in their relationship. But it wasn’t as though she was able to choose the ideal situation; in the end, they would have to do what they must. That was the point of the bigger picture, was it not?

“Then it’s settled,” Morgause said. “We ride for Essetir at first light; with any luck we should arrive in two days hence.”

Nimueh didn’t seem to expect that it would be so soon, but she did not argue the matter. She had been waiting many years for this opportunity; she must be as anxious to head out as Morgana. “I will meet you on the mainland then, west of the Isle on the outskirts of the forest. If I try to depart with you it will surely be noticed; it would be best if I left alone.”

Morgause nodded, agreeing on that point. Neither of them wanted the Elders involvement in this, as they would forbid it. However, Morgause was still wary that Nimueh would be able to leave undetected. “What if you are caught?” she asked.

Nimueh smirked, amused by her question. “I will not be,” she told her simply. Morgause didn’t know how she could sound so sure, but dropped it; if Nimueh said she would be there, then they would wait for her. 

After all, despite Morgause’s beliefs that this day would never come to pass, they were all in this together now.

**TBC…**


	22. Journey’s Beginning

**CHAPTER XXII  
Journey’s Beginning**

_We ride at first light._

The emotions that were emitted from Morgana at those words were conflicting and harsh, for she quickly found herself torn between excitement, relief, and an all-consuming fear. The uncertainty their journey held worried her, and that feeling alone stood to drive her mad should she not find a way to push it aside. It would not do for her to fall apart when everything was finally coming together, despite whether or not she believed she deserved answers.

For being a Seer, Morgana found her future to be rather murky, and she despised that above all else, especially during a time like this, when their long journey towards freedom may very well end with them looking Death in the eye. Nimueh told her once not to force it, that the Gods would allow her to see what needed to be seen on _their_ time, not hers. But Morgana did not want to wait, she wanted answers _now._ She was fighting for them, for their people; did she not deserve to know if they truly had a chance?

Though Morgana had said nothing aloud of what was troubling her, Morgause could always sense her tension. She kissed Morgana beneath her ear and whispered for her to turn around. The Ward did what she was told, and when she was confronted by the image of herself in the mirror that hung on the opposite wall, Morgause settled herself behind her and ran her hands down her arms, across her stomach, and over to her hips, eliciting a shiver from Morgana as she watched her sister’s reflection carefully. “Look at yourself,” Morgause had breathed in her ear. “Look at the woman you’ve become.”

Morgana looked at her own reflection, having flushed a little at the image of herself bare and nude. Though her body had not changed, Morgana was able to recognize the distinct difference in her eyes. Purpose, power, strength. She was no longer just a mere Ward from Camelot; she was a High Priestess of the Old Religion. Her ability to recognize that startled her, yet still held a strange sort of comfort.

“I do not fear what we are about to do,” Morgause breathed after she had noticed Morgana’s recognition. Her nails raked across her skin and Morgana shuddered, her head falling back into the crook of her sister’s neck as Morgause’s soft hands began to caress her breasts. “For I have you on my side, sister. There could be no greater gift.”

Morgause always knew just what to say. She had a way with words and Morgana reveled in it, for they instilled such emotion within her that it was hard to remember why she should be so frightened, so worried for what their fate held in the coming days. Morgana found that she forgot her thoughts, her life, her fear as Morgause’s hand slipped down her form, settling between her legs. Fingers twirled in Morgana’s hair, wrapping it around Morgause’s slim wrist. The Ward gasped as Morgause pulled her head back, holding her in place in a startlingly possessive manner. Her eyes fluttered closed.

“Watch,” Morgause ordered softly. “I want you to see the love that binds us together, what will keep us safe. Open your eyes.” Morgana did as she was told, momentarily taken aback by how erotic their reflection looked in the mirror. Her breathing shallowed as Morgause began to slide her fingers through her heat, one hand still holding her firmly in place, keeping them together, as they always should be. The love Morgana could see in her sister’s eyes took her breath away as Morgause began to tempt her towards the edge, her gaze locked on to Morgana’s the entire time.

“I am a part of you, Morgana,” Morgause breathed in her ear, making a shiver run down the Ward’s spine, emitting a burning passion deep down in her abdomen. “As you are a part of me. No one, _nothing,_ not even Death himself, could ever keep us apart.” Her fingers coaxed a pleading gasp from Morgana’s lips and she struggled to keep her eyes open, not wanting to miss a moment of the beauty her sister had created before her eyes. Morgause smiled and kissed Morgana’s neck before fiercely promising, “For I would fight the Gods themselves, should it mean I would always be by your side.”

Morgana moaned softly, her fingernails digging into Morgause’s supple thighs that lay on either side of her. Her sister was breathing heavily next to her ear, her body flushing with wanton need. Morgana squirmed beneath her hold as the feeling of infinite ecstasy grew closer, and she stared into her sister’s eyes, feeling Morgause’s gaze burn a hole through her heart and fill it with her promises of everything. 

“Forever,” Morgana gasped, feeling the word flow through her as its meaning wrapping her up, blanketing her, sheltering her. She reached over her head and behind her to grasp the back of Morgause’s neck, her hips beginning to franticly meet each stroke of her sister’s determined fingers. Morgana’s body glistened with desperation and need as she cried out, falling into Morgause’s heart as her eyes glassed over and her body began to convulse with pleasure.

“ _Forever._ ”

Morgana slept the best she had in years after their lovemaking, feeling as though her very soul was protected by the one person who would give up everything just to feel connected to her. Morgause was a gift Morgana never believed she deserved, yet was thankful for every day. The beauty she brought to her life was magnificent and incomparable and Morgana did not know how she had managed to live so long without it.

The next morning the two women stood at the lake’s shore, being enveloped by a tight hug. Llamrei expressed how proud she was of them, and although worry shone beneath her azure eyes, she chose not to voice her fears. She knew that this was their choice and that they had to forge their own path in life, despite what anyone may or may not think about the risk they were taking. The Elders, of course, were wary about what kind of backlash something like this could bring upon their kind, but Morgana stood before them, fire in her eyes as she declared that she had a birthright to the throne and if they forbade what they were about to do, they might very well have thrown out the last chance, the _best_ chance, that their people finally had to be free. It convinced some, but not all, but in the end the majority ruled that they should be allowed to proceed.

It would have made no difference though, in the end. Despite what the Council felt, they were going to pursue anyhow. But Llamrei insisted that they do it anyway, should they need a place to retreat to if they failed. Morgana suppressed her comment to point out that if they failed, it would more than likely mean that they had died in their efforts, though held her tongue as she did not wish to upset the woman. Llamrei held so much love for Morgause, treated her as though she were her own flesh and blood, that the thought of her dying could very well destroy her. So both of them kept the firm belief that there was no other option but for them to succeed, and though Llamrei still looked worried, their confidence seemed to slightly ease her troubled mind.

It was chilly when they reached the spot Nimueh told them to meet. Morgana wrapped her cloak further around her shoulders as she leaned into Morgause, feeling her warmth run through her entire being. They watched and waited, looking for any sign that the witch was coming. The minutes stretched onwards and Morgana could feel Morgause beginning to become impatient.

“Perhaps she’s not coming.”

“She’ll be here,” Morgana told her firmly, knowing that Nimueh would not go back on her word. This was all she had wanted for nearly two decades; she would not so easily pass up the chance to overthrow the very person who had destroyed her life. Morgause did not look so sure however, and she pulled away from Morgana, beginning to ready the horses she had called to them.

Morgana chewed on the inside of her cheek, worried that something may have happened. But just as she turned to express her fears to Morgause, a strong gust of wind enveloped the clearing and Nimueh appeared within it, a hard look in her eyes. Morgana did not need to ask what had happened, for it was obvious by her look that someone had challenged her.

“We must go,” she told them, not wasting a moment as she mounted one of the horses. “ _Now._ Soon the whole Council will know I’m here; they will not be far behind us.”

Not wishing to face the Elder’s wrath for disobeying their wishes, both sisters mounted their respective horses. “Won’t they be able to follow us?” Morgana called out to Nimueh, nervous that no matter how far they rode, the Elders would follow them to their destination.

Nimueh did not answer her. Instead she rose her hand upwards, her eyes flashing gold as she breathed, “ _Abdere nobis; constitues eos non potuerunt deprehendere._ ” Though Morgana wished to know exactly what it was that Nimueh had just done, she did not get a chance to ask. “Go,” Nimueh ordered, and they immediately rode into the cover of the forest, away from the Isle and the comfort it provided, barreling headfirst into the unknown.

[x]

The night was cold, the first threat of winter growing ever nearer. Morgause found it rather odd, how the seasons turned this year; it was as though autumn no longer existed and it worried her, how fast the temperature was dropping. Should the first snow begin to fall much sooner than expected, it would devastate their plans, for no army would march in such conditions.

Morgause sat cross-legged by the fire they had made, Morgana snuggled into her side as she watched Nimueh closely. The witch had circled their camp three times before she finally stopped, her eyes narrowing as she finally seemed to find what she was looking for. Immediately her hand touched the bark of the tree that she had found disturbed, and her eyes glowed gold as she searched out the area with her Sight. Morgause could see her sister’s eyebrows furrow out of her peripheral as she watched her, curious as to what Nimueh was doing, but the slender brunette had never really been one to explain her actions.

A smile crept across Nimueh’s face and Morgause found it strange, how someone so beautiful could look so devastatingly dangerous when something pleased her. “ _Venire ad me,_ ” she muttered, and three swords were summoned before Nimueh in front of their eyes, laid out on the ground just a few paces in front of them. Morgause knitted her eyebrows, a little concerned.

“Where did you get those?”

“Bandits rode through here not half a day previously,” Nimueh answered, crouching down to inspect the weapons she had brought to them. “I found our need for them greater than theirs.”

“They will be missed,” Morgause pointed out, not terribly keen on sending bandits their way after taking what was theirs. She would like to sleep soundly tonight, thank you. Nimueh merely shrugged, like it was no matter.

“Perhaps, however I very much doubt they will find it was us. Less they have a sorcerer within their midst, they will find they simply misplaced them. They are much too far ahead to double back all this way, and even should they decide to, by the time they reach us we will be long gone.”

Morgause didn’t seem too convinced, but decided not to argue the point. Nimueh was right, after all; they _did_ need weapons. While magick was good to a point, it did not hurt to carry extra measures. 

Nimueh rose, apparently finding the swords to be in acceptable condition. While she crossed the clearing to sit on the opposite side of the fire from them, Morgana yawned and Morgause pulled her closer, cradling the side of the Ward’s head with her hand protectively. “If you’re tired, love, then sleep,” Morgause encouraged softly as she stroked her sister’s hair, weaving the long, dark curls between her fingers.

“I will in a bit,” Morgana promised. “But honestly, right now my stomach is in knots and I couldn’t possibly—”

“You need to eat,” Morgause told her, remembering that her sister waved off food the first time they stopped to nourish themselves. She pulled away momentarily to dig through her sack. When Morgause pulled out an apple, Morgana looked at it apprehensively. Morgause sighed; she knew her sister was worried about what was to come, but she couldn’t starve herself until she had her answers. That was completely unreasonable. “Go on,” she encouraged, holding up the apple. “Eat. It will make you feel better, I promise.”

Morgana hesitated for a moment but eventually took the apple, turning it over in her hands a couple times. She gave Morgause a small smile of gratitude for looking after her; it seemed when Morgana had too much weight on her shoulders Morgause had to step in, even if it was to take care of something relatively simple. But honestly she wouldn’t have it any other way; Morgause enjoyed looking after her sister, it made her feel needed. 

She turned back around to get some water for Morgana, but stopped mid-movement as she caught sight of Nimueh, who was currently pouring the water from their flask into what looked to be the large, curved base of a shell. “What do you think you’re doing?” Morgause asked her, annoyance etching over her delicate features. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“I’d rather you not waste the supplies we have just so you can stare at Uther all night,” Morgause told her, starting to believe Nimueh’s obsession with the man was beginning to get out of hand. It must be maddening, to stare at a face like his night after night for years on end. It really wasn’t healthy.

“We have enough,” was all Nimueh said before her eyes flashed gold, and after a few whispered words, an image of the King of Camelot formed in the water. And yes, perhaps that were true, however Morgause wished to have some extra just in case something happened and they were delayed in getting to Essetir. But before she could say anything to that affect, Nimueh continued. “Besides, it will be perfectly drinkable once I am through with it.”

Morgause turned up her nose, not wishing to drink anything that once bore the image of Uther Pendragon, but Morgana gently put her hand on her arm to stop her from saying anything. “Let her,” she said, voice barely above a whisper so as to not be heard by Nimueh. “As strange as it may seem, it is her only source of comfort.”

Morgause was unsure how much the sight of that man could comfort _anyone,_ yet she relented and left the issue alone. But it seemed Nimueh had heard her and she told Morgana without looking up, “It is not comfort I seek in his image, it is _information._ ” She sounded insulted by the insinuation that she would watch Uther for anything but that, however Morgana still did not look very convinced. 

Morgause wished she knew what her sister knew; it seemed Morgana had figured out more of Nimueh than the witch had ever wished for her to know, and though Morgause knew it was none of her business, she could not help but be curious. Morgana had mentioned something about Nimueh having lost someone that she loved, but other than that Morgause was entirely in the dark. She couldn’t help but think that perhaps, if she were privy to it, it would make it easier for her to trust the witch.

It would be a start, at least.

“In weeks’ time we’ll be marching on his city gates,” Nimueh continued, still looking into the basin. Morgause half wondered if she was even blinking; she couldn’t see her do it and it was slightly unnerving. “I wish to know how aware he is of your situation, Morgana. Despite what I think of him, I also know that he is no fool; he will suspect something is amiss.”

Morgana shifted uncomfortably in her seat at that information. Morgause knew that her sister wished that Uther believed she was coming back in good faith, but it seemed both she and Nimueh had their doubts. They both knew that Uther would say anything to Morgana to get her to trust him, to come back to him; it was merely his intentions of what would follow afterwards that they were unsure of.

Nimueh continued to stare into the water’s depths before she smirked, turning her eyes towards Morgause. “My, my… he is not fond of _you_ , is he?” That got Morgause’s attention and she sat up a little, her interest peaked.

“I wouldn’t expect that he would be,” Morgause replied. She had taken away his daughter, of course she wouldn’t be Uther’s favorite person in the world. “What is he saying?”

“How he craves to see your head on a stake, for the most part,” Nimueh replied, arcing and eyebrow in her direction. “Although he was _quite_ creative with the description, I must say. I’m almost impressed by the attention to detail he paid to his little fantasy.”

“Let me see,” Morgana said suddenly as she dropped her half eaten apple, allowing it to lie forgotten in the dirt as she rose to her feet. Morgause gave into her own curiosity and followed suit, both of them taking a place on either side of Nimueh. If they were to get information from this, then it would probably be best if it wasn’t being relayed to them by Nimueh; Morgause still did not trust her and doubted she would tell the entire truth, but merely tell the truth that suited her own ends.

The image before them was of Uther and the court physician, Gaius. Morgause could not hear what they were saying though and when she turned to Nimueh to tell her that, the witch placed the basin on the ground before them. She took the two sisters’ hands in hers, connecting them to the power of her spell. Gaius’s voice began to echo in the back of Morgause’s mind, loud and clear as if he were standing before her. As she was not a Seer and had never experienced anything like this before, Morgause found it highly unsettling. 

“My Lord, I fear it will not be so easy to capture the sorceress,” Gaius told the King of Camelot, after what Morgause could only assume was Uther’s rant about wishing her dead. “Morgana is an intelligent young woman; despite your assurances that you wish only for her safe return, I believe she will know that you covet her sister’s head. It would be unwise of her to allow Morgause to return with her to Camelot; she will know it is far too dangerous for her.”

Uther seemed unconcerned by Gaius’s assessment. “The sorceress will come,” he told him, conviction in his voice. “She will not leave Morgana to fair on her own. Though she may not step foot inside our kingdom, she will leave Morgana at the border, of that I am certain. The woman risked her life to come here, to take what is mine. She cares for Morgana’s safety, Gaius, and that will be her undoing.”

Nimueh snorted slightly, making Morgause color in anger. She hated that the witch was right, that her feelings for Morgana really were her greatest weakness. Though the fact that Uther still believed Morgana would come on her own and not with an army gave them the advantage, it did not sit well with Morgause to know Uther was more than aware of her weaknesses. There was still the possibility that he could use it against her in the battle to come.

“And what of Morgana?”

The question rung loud in the silence that followed. Morgause could see her sister hold her breath, waiting for Uther’s answer. It was a long time until he spoke. “I only wish to see her return to Camelot safely,” he began. “I cannot condemn her for what she did, Gaius. If the kingdom questions my decision, I will merely say she acted while under the sorceress’s enchantment. I want things to be as they were, before that _woman,_ ” he spit out the word as though it were offal in his mouth, “came into our lives. With her dead, the issue would cease to exist.”

Gaius looked uncomfortable with the question he was about to ask, yet did so anyway. Morgause was thankful, as this was something they all needed to hear. She did not want Uther’s misguided love for Morgana to make her question their plans, for they were now in too deep to try to hash out another. “And if Morgana’s binding spell has already been broken by her sister? My Lord, you must realize that there is a strong possibility of it; Morgause would wish her sister to know who she really is. If Morgana returns to Camelot with all the knowledge you worked so hard to keep from her—”

“Then I have no choice,” Uther responded. Though his voice was strong with conviction, it seemed like the decision was a painful one to make. “I cannot allow a sorceress into this Court, but I do pray that Morgana would see reason and ask for it to be kept intact should the offer be made to her. She knows what devastation magick brings; I do not believe she would ever wish for it.”

Gaius looked doubtful, and rightly so. 

Morgause’s eyes found her sister. She looked furious with Uther’s decision to condemn her to death for having magick, even though she was his own flesh and blood. But in the end, it was probably to be expected; Uther’s fear of sorcery outweighed the love and loyalty to those he held most dear. He would probably kill Arthur, his beloved son, his _heir,_ if it was found that the boy had magick. It disgusted Morgause and it seemed to do the same to Morgana as well as she let out a sound of contempt, furiously pushing the basin over and spilling its contents into the dirt.

Nimueh looked unhappy with Morgana’s reaction and she reached for the basin, her body language indicating annoyance with the disruption. “Foolish child,” she chastised. “Do not let your emotions get the better of you; it will only prove to kill us all in the end. This is _war,_ Morgana; clear your mind and leave your personal feelings out of it. There is a bigger picture to focus on and to lose sight of it will only result in our failure.”

Morgana rose to her feet before furiously facing Nimueh, disbelief etched across her face. “Do not sit there and preach at me, when we both know that the only reason you seek to destroy Uther is because he made the selfish decision that killed the woman you love. I will feel what I am meant to feel, because I am _human._ If you do not like it, you are free to leave.”

Morgause’s eyebrows rose, the pieces of the puzzle beginning to fall before her eyes. The fact that Morgana said that Uther made the _decision,_ not committed the act itself that resulted in the death of the person Nimueh loved, caused Morgause to believe that her sister was speaking of Ygraine. Despite herself, Morgause found that sympathy overtook her personal feelings about the witch. It must have been terribly devastating, to have cast the spell that robbed Ygraine of her life, all because she could not go against her King’s wishes. For a moment, Morgause could not blame Nimueh for wishing to take vengeance; she would do the same, should it have happened with Morgana.

Nimueh’s gaze flickered to Morgause for a moment and immediately found in her eyes the last thing she ever wished to see. She knew Morgause understood now and it angered her, for her business to be so out in the open. Nimueh had always been incredibly private about her affairs.

“If I leave, you will both die,” Nimueh spat angrily as she returned the basin to her knapsack. “You are far too incompetent to pull this off by yourselves. So if you wish to succeed, I _suggest_ that my life not become a topic of discussion. Is that understood, or do you wish for me to make my point more clear?” Her words held a threat that was not ignored, however was still scoffed at by Morgause, out of habit.

“Do not speak to me like I do not know what I’m doing,” Morgana responded, her tone fierce and powerful. “This is _my_ destiny, Nimueh, not yours. And I am not so foolish to not know that it would be more difficult should you leave us, but I do not believe we will fail without you. Our cause is just and the Gods are on our side; there could be no greater weapon.”

Nimueh looked at her, her expression hard. “I will admit, your conviction is admirable,” she began. “But that does not guarantee your success, Morgana. Even you must know that.”

Morgana looked as though she did, however did not wish to admit it. The two women stared at each other for quite a long time, filling the clearing with an uncomfortable silence. Finally, Morgana spoke. “I will not discuss your life, should you wish me not to,” she relented. “But do not believe you alone are the key to our success, because you are not. Should we accomplish this, it will be because we did it _together._ ”

Nimueh, who apparently thrived off her own self-importance, did not look happy with Morgana’s assessment, but relented with a nod nonetheless. In the end, it was important to Nimueh that she was there with them and both sisters knew it. Love, it seemed, was everyone’s greatest weakness; even Nimueh’s. She had loved someone with all her heart and lost her, that pain driving her to vengeance more powerful than anything she had ever felt before. It was because it was known that Morgana was able to control her, just as Nimueh was able to hold power over Morgause because of her love for Morgana. It was, in a way, a vicious circle.

But perhaps, if they were able to get along, the three of them would be able to use their power over one another to their greatest advantage; it would connect them, bind them to each other, making them stronger than any army Camelot could ever fathom the thought of forming.

And they would be unstoppable.

**TBC…**


	23. Essetir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you guys have probably noticed, the updates on this story have been pretty slow lately. Honestly I’m not sure how much interest this story has anymore now that the show has ended, and I have another multi-chapter I’m in the middle of who’s fandom is a lot more active at the moment. I’m not going to abandon this story completely, as I personally think it has one of the best plots I’ve ever written, but updates at the moment are going to be pretty scarce until I have less on my plate. Just wanted to let you all know.

**CHAPTER XXIII  
Essetir**

The Kingdom of Essetir was vast and beautiful, despite its castle’s menacing and unwelcoming nature. Its darkness contrasted greatly with the city’s color and warmth, leaving Morgana to feel rather out of place once the King’s guards had escorted them inside the walls of the palace. Despite her discomfort, Morgana kept her head high and her gaze purposeful, alluding to a strength she so desperately wished she had in that moment.

The Ward’s heart beat heavily inside her chest as they made their way to the throne room. Despite Nimueh and her sister’s assurances that Cenred would be more than willing, Morgana could not help but fear the possibility that they may have come in vain. If that was the case, Morgana was uncertain who they could turn to in his stead. Their options were few and they had a very small window of time to accomplish their ends; should they need to find another King willing to ally against Camelot, they would be wasting precious time.

The large oak door was pushed open by their escorting guards, the hinges squeaking beneath its weight. King Cenred sat upon his throne, his eyes finding the three women who had disturbed the previous silence of the room. His eyebrow quirked and intrigue colored his expression. Morgana assumed Cenred was not accustomed to female visitors he did not call for himself, let alone three of them at once. Bathed in the finest silken gowns, they must look terribly displaced from the norm, yet Morgause had insisted they dress for the occasion, as Cenred’s lust was his greatest weakness.

As his gaze blatantly drank up each woman’s appearance in turn, Morgana could not deny that they had made the right decision with their attire. It was clear their physical appearance was more than pleasing for the man.

“My Lord, these women have come—” the guard tried to announce, yet he was silenced by a wave of Cenred’s hand. He clearly did not care why; he only cared that they were there. The details, it seemed, were irrelevant.

“Leave us.”

The guard looked a little perturbed by the dismissal, yet said nothing as he bowed his head in acknowledgement. After he had left and the door closed behind him, Cenred rose from his throne. “Nimueh,” he assumed, looking straight at the witch who stood between Morgana and Morgause. “The most wanted woman in all of Camelot.” Cenred looked almost impressed by Nimueh’s reputation, which would at least give them a slight advantage towards their proposal. “I had wondered how long it would take for you to come to me. I must admit, I would have thought it’d be much sooner than this.” 

“I see my reputation precedes me,” Nimueh responded, though did not make a move to meet Cenred halfway. There was power, after all, when one is forced to come to you, no matter how slight.

“Oh, yes,” he affirmed, drawing closer to them. “The woman who started the Great Purge; you are a legend.”

Morgana glanced at Nimueh out of the corner of her eye, hoping that did not draw offense. It was not something Nimueh was proud of. However the witch did not even bat an eyelash at Cenred’s words; it was as though she almost expected them. And perhaps she should have, but it still made Morgana feel badly for the woman. What had happened all those years ago was the last thing Nimueh had ever wanted.

“I assume,” Cenred continued, “that you are here to negotiate an allegiance?” His eyes flickered to the two women that stood at Nimueh’s side. His lips turned up into a smirk. “I must say, I am impressed by the gifts you have brought me. This one in particular…” Cenred’s hand rose to touch Morgause’s face but the blonde grasped his wrist firmly, offence making over her delicate features for being assumed a whore.

“Touch me again and you will soon find yourself a cripple.”

Nimueh looked amused at Cenred’s shocked expression. “A gift has been brought to you, yes, but not the one you so pompously assumed.” 

Despite being spoken to by Nimueh though, Cenred was still looking at Morgause. It seemed that after the shock had passed the blonde’s fire seemed to intrigue him even more. It was as though Morgana and Nimueh were completely invisible and Morgana tried not to let it bother her; this was what they were hoping for, after all. It was just that the Ward wished Cenred would’ve take an interest in Nimueh and not either of them, but perhaps it was stupid to have hoped for anything else. Morgause was the most beautiful woman Morgana had ever set eyes on; she should have expected that everyone else would feel the same.

Nimueh did not look too pleased with being ignored either, but mostly because she was trying to speak with him. Her voice grew louder. “We are the three faces of the Triple Goddess; the best weapon one could ever desire to have in battle.”

That, at least, redirected Cenred’s attention. He looked at Nimueh, then over towards Morgana. “So it is all of you then, who seek an allegiance?”

Morgana was growing tired of standing in the shadows during this conversation so she took a step forward. “Actually, it is I who wish to stand with you.” Nimueh did not look very happy by the dismissal, but in the end this was not her fight and she knew it.

“And who are you?” Cenred demanded.

“Morgana Pendragon,” Morgana answered him, her voice strong and certain as she recited a name she hated, yet embraced for its power. “Daughter of Uther Pendragon, second in line to the throne of Camelot.”

Cenred looked as though he did not know how to take that information. “Uther has no daughter,” he scoffed finally, deciding to be disbelieving of her claims.

“Uther has not publicly acknowledged me, but I am his by blood,” Morgana told him. “I believe even you, can understand why. Do you really believe my father would be so quick to admit that he had a hand in creating the very thing he despises the most?”

That made Cenred pause as he considered the possibility. Uther’s hatred of magick was well known, so it was not unreasonable that he would deny having a blood connection to it. “Even if you were,” Cenred began, “your story would need witnesses if you ever wish to claim your birthright. Until then, your title means nothing.”

Morgana did not think of that. Most of the people who knew that she was Uther’s daughters were sorcerers, which in Camelot did not fare as reliable witnesses. But it was Nimueh who spoke. “The Court Physician, Gaius, knows of her lineage.” Morgana’s eyes went wide at that information and she turned to face Nimueh. _Gaius?_ She had trusted him and all these years he had been keeping Uther’s secret? _Lying_ to her? The revelation made the pit of Morgana’s stomach churn with sickness.

“It was how I learned,” Nimueh explained. “We were… _friends_ once. He confided in me.” It was clear it was hard for her to admit to that, seeing as Gaius’ loyalty now lied with the King. “Llamrei, of course,” Nimueh continued, now looking towards Morgause, “was informed by your mother, but I do not believe her assurance would have any standing within Camelot.”

Pushing her personal feelings about Gaius’s betrayal of trust to the side, Morgana stepped forward. “It is of no matter anyhow,” she assured them, wishing to just push past the issue of acknowledgement. It was not something that she felt comfortable discussing, as it wasn’t just an issue of royalty to her, but one of family and lack of trust. It was personal. “Once we’ve taken the city, I will make Uther acknowledge me _himself._ I deserve to hear the words fall from his lips and I will see to it that I get my wish.”

“You speak as though I have already agreed to this,” Cenred reminded her. “But I fail to see what’s in it for me. Though Camelot is not as strong as it was before the Purge, it is still impenetrable. Only a fool would go against Uther Pendragon when his kingdom still stands tall.”

“Nothing is impenetrable,” Morgause told him, finally coming into the conversation. Once she spoke, all of Cenred’s attention was on her. It was almost sickening to watch, but Morgana endured his desire for her sister as it was what she was expected to do. They needed Cenred. 

“And I thought what we were offering was obvious,” Morgause continued, speaking to him as though he were feeble minded and yet it seemed her attitude only furthered his lust. A masochist, perhaps; or maybe Cenred wished to break someone as strong as her. Either way, it was working and Morgause knew it. “Once Morgana has taken the throne, she will be in need of a King. That is where you come in, if you are willing.”

The thought sickened Morgana, but as it would never actually come to pass, she did not dwell on it. They were planning to double-cross him, and the chances of Cenred even surviving the end of the battle were slim to none. He viewed women as objects; he would never see it coming. He probably didn’t think their gender was capable of such an act of betrayal, let alone be strong enough to carry it out.

Cenred looked intrigued by the prospect, but didn’t even look at Morgana, who he should be considering for his future queen. Instead he continued to study Morgause, as though he were trying to figure her out. “I still have not been allowed the pleasure of an introduction,” he said, extending his hand to her. “I would love to know the name that accompanies such a rare beauty.” Morgause took his hand to be polite, but looked unimpressed by his charm.

“I am the Lady Morgause; High Priestess of the Old Religion, half-sister to the future queen of Camelot.”

At a second mention of Morgana’s possible queenship, Cenred finally turned to look at her. Morgause untangled her hand from his and stepped back, a look of disgust on her face now that Cenred’s back was turned. Morgana felt badly that she had to endure such attention, but there would be time later to wash away his touch.

“I will admit, that is something I would not be opposed to,” he began. “But as I said before, only a fool would go up against Camelot in its current state. For you to assume the throne, you must not only defeat Uther but his son as well. Even with my great army, I do not think it would be worth the lives it will cost to achieve your ends.”

Morgana was beginning to grow impatient. Uther had said once that Cenred was a coward and it was starting to show. His overly cautious nature was not what they needed right now. “Then we will find a way to weaken it first,” Morgana said, without thought to a solution before she spoke.

“How?”

Morgana hesitated, but it was Morgause who spoke in her stead. “Give us time. It would be unreasonable for you to expect us to devise a battle plan in a day; at least, one that would work. If we wish to seize Camelot, we must be smart about it.”

Cenred, at least, seemed to agree on that point. “Of course,” he conceded. There was a slight pause before the topic switched rather abruptly, becoming the polite expectation one would assume from any King with visitors. “In the meantime however, I insist that the three of you stay in my castle as my honored guests. I will have my servants make up your rooms and we will speak more on this in the morning.”

“Thank you,” Morgana replied, bowing her head slightly in acknowledgement, “for your hospitality, King Cenred. We are most grateful.”

As the three women turned away from Cenred, Morgana found herself torn between relief and worry. The King at least seemed interested in their proposal, but Morgana was unsure what they could do to weaken Camelot before the attack. Whatever they decide though, they must do so quickly, for as Morgana’s eyes found the window and saw the first bit of winter’s frost tainting its glass, she feared snowfall would come before they were ready.

And all three of them knew they could not afford such an obstacle.

[x]

“We need a plan.”

“Yes _thank you,_ dear, for stating the obvious,” Nimueh bit back, her relentless pacing back and forth beginning to make Morgause feel rather dizzy. The blonde held her tongue but her eyes rolled in the back of her head as she let out a long breath of frustration. It would do no good to argue right now.

Morgana came up from behind her, wrapping her arms around Morgause’s torso as she watched Nimueh try to formulate some sort of idea of how they could weaken Camelot’s defenses. She sighed. “Part of me wishes that I had never left now; it would’ve been much easier to bring down Uther from inside the castle.”

“If you hadn’t left, you would probably be dead by now,” Morgause told her, the statement harsh, yet honest. She slid her hands over her abdomen, covering her sisters’ which rested there. Morgana nuzzled into the back of Morgause’s neck, needing to feel the connection between them after watching Cenred practically drool all over her. Morgause didn’t blame her.

She was very much not looking forward to toying with Cenred’s affections towards her, but if it furthered their cause then so be it. Some things just mattered more.

“Isn’t there some sort of spell we can use?” Morgana asked. “Perhaps, I don’t know, if we were to put something into the water supply so that the knights’ strength wanes?”

Morgause shook her head, a small sigh escaping her lips. “Getting close enough to the city to do so would be incredibly dangerous. I don’t think it would be wise of us to take that kind of risk.”

“She’s right,” Nimueh murmured as she lightly chewed on her thumbnail, deep in thought as she looked out the far window. “Besides, if we were to get close enough to the water supply, it would be more pertinent to just poison it.”

“No.” Morgana’s face was fierce at that suggestion, in disbelief that Nimueh would ever suggest such a thing. “I will not risk the lives of my people. Weakening them as a whole is one thing, but genocide is quite another.”

Nimueh didn’t even try to suppress her eye roll at Morgana’s sentiments. “This is war, Morgana; we must do what is necessary, no matter how much you may dislike it. If lives are lost to achieve our ends, then so be it. In the long run, there will be many more that will be saved.”

“Have you always been this much of a self-serving imbecile?”

Morgause’s eyes widened at her sister’s blunt statement and Nimueh whipped around to fully face her, face masked in offense at Morgana’s less than polite choice of words. But Morgana wasn’t done.

“A Queen is nothing without her kingdom. A _kingdom_ is nothing without its people,” she told her, voice growing stronger with each passing word. “Though Camelot’s common folk may not have magick in their blood, though they may not seem _special_ to someone like you, that does not make them irrelevant. They are _my_ people and they will not become senseless casualties just because you believe we could rebuild Camelot and repopulate it with sorcerers.” 

Nimueh’s eyes narrowed and Morgana continued, “Yeah, I know _exactly_ why you do not care about them, Nimueh. I’m not a fool. But as I am the one to become Queen, I believe the decision of their fate rests with me, _not_ you. Is that understood? My word on this is final.”

Nimueh exhaled a long breath at Morgana trying her patience, but she did not argue. In the end, it was Morgana’s decision, whether Nimueh liked it or not. “Of course, _Your Majesty._ ” 

The title was said with the utmost sarcasm, but Morgana did not take the bait. Fighting amongst themselves would do no good and she knew it. It made Morgause smile; the woman her sister had become was someone she respected more highly than words could ever hope to describe. She tightened her grip on Morgana’s hands, silently letting her know that she approved of her words. Her sister squeezed right back, grateful for her support.

“Perhaps it would be best if we put our focus into strengthening Cenred’s army instead,” Morgana suggested, getting back on topic. “If we give him a guarantee that he could not possibly lose, perhaps he would begin to see things our way.”

Nimueh waved her off, her impatience growing with each failed suggestion. “There is no such spell that can guarantee something of that magnitude. The only thing that would make his army impenetrable would be the Cup of Life, but that has been lost for centuries.”

The Cup of Life.

_The Cup of Life._

Something clicked inside of Morgause suddenly and she pulled away from Morgana, stepping towards Nimueh. She was beginning to grow excited, the reality of a solution getting closer and closer as she realized something that could very well change everything. But she had to know for sure before she gave them hope, so she first asked, “The Cup of Life… it’s a large golden chalice, is it not?”

“Yes, with small dragon figurines around its base,” Nimueh answered, her eyebrow upturning by Morgause’s tone. It seemed she could not fathom why Morgause looked so eager to hear her answer, but then again, Morgause would never expect her to. She could hardly believe it herself. “But as I’ve said—”

Morgause interrupted her. “I’ve seen it.”

 _“What?_ ”

Both women questioned her simultaneously, their disbelief apparent in their expressions. Morgause continued, “Whilst on our journey to the Isle, we sought shelter in the Druid’s camp that lies west of Camelot. Their leader, Aglain, tended to my wounds in his tent. It was there that I saw the chalice, I knew there was something familiar about it at the time but I couldn’t place it. The Druids must have been chosen to protect—”

But Nimueh wouldn’t let her finish. A fierce purpose filled her eyes as the information gave her a new determination. “We must get it, by _any_ means necessary. If we were to possess something of such power—”

“Slow down for a moment,” Morgana ordered, holding up her hand to stop Nimueh mid-sentence. “You’re becoming overzealous again. The Druids are peaceful people; we will _not_ go stomping into their camp demanding that they turn it over to us. Despite being in the midst of war, we are still civilized and they are still our allies. If we wish to go that route, we will _ask_ to borrow it for a short reprieve before returning it to where it rightfully belongs. It would not do for us to make more enemies when we have so many against us already.”

“And should Aglain decline?” Nimueh challenged, her eyes hardening at how delicately Morgana always chose to go about things. She obviously did not approve.

“Then we will find another way!”

“There _is_ no other way, don’t be foolish!”

“Stop yelling, the both of you!” Morgause demanded, her head beginning to pound from their shrieking tones. This was not helping by any means. She turned to Nimueh. “Morgana is right, we need to keep the Druids as allies. It would be disastrous to our cause should we stack more enemies against us.” She sighed a little before hesitantly admitting, “Yet all the same, I share your concerns about our request being declined; if we do not get the cup, I fear Cenred will not help us.”

“And his army is what we need, above all else,” Nimueh stated, as if she were making some grand point that Morgana could not argue with. It seemed that hope was foolish, however. 

“What we _need_ above all else is to not turn into the same kind of murderous, self-serving _bastard_ that Uther himself has become!” Morgana told her fiercely. “I will not condone taking the cup by force, not when they helped us when we had nowhere else to turn.”

Nimueh looked like she was about to start arguing again so Morgause cut in with, “In all fairness, we may be worrying over this for nothing. I’m sure the Druids share our same hope that one day our people will not have to live in fear. If this is to further our cause, perhaps they would be more than willing to help. _Provided,_ ” she added, “that we see it returned to them. If they were chosen to protect it, it was for a reason. We need to respect that.”

“Agreed.”

Nimueh still looked unconvinced. “That may be true, but if it isn’t then we will need to come up with a sufficient alternative and thus far, we have not. We do not have all the time in the world; winter is almost upon us and no army in their right mind would march in those conditions. We could just end up wasting time that we do not have. I’m unsure if that’s a risk worth taking.”

“I believe in what we’re doing,” Morgana told her strongly. “If what we are doing is truly right, is truly _just_ , then the Gods will find a way to make it come to pass. Have faith.”

“Faith is for the foolish.”

“That is your opinion,” Morgana told her, not fazed by her assessment. “Let us at least see if the option is available to us before we seek an alternative solution, for if it is then we would’ve just been wasting time coming up with a plan we did not need. And as you pointed out before, we do not have a lot of it.”

Nimueh was silent for a moment, her lips pursed into a tight line as she stared at Morgana. Finally she exhaled a long sigh. “Fine,” she relented, although she did not seem too happy with her own agreement. “But I truly hope they help us, because I do not see this ending well if they will not.”

Morgause tended to agree, yet kept herself silent. Like Morgana said, they had to have faith. Besides, she knew Aglain. He cared deeply for the safety of his people and if Morgana’s reign could bring about that guarantee, he needn’t have to worry any longer. Was that not something they all wanted? After all, the desire for freedom was, above all else, the thing that bound those with magickal blood together. 

They just had to pray that Aglain would see that.

**TBC…**


End file.
